Running Out of Time
by CaitlynWinchester
Summary: Sam returns to college...and five weeks later, disappears without a trace. Dean must team up with another psychic he and his brother met on a previous hunt to save him...but will they get to Sam in time?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Dean glanced at the twenty-four-year-old lying asleep in the passenger seat of his car. He looked at his younger brother Sam's sleeping form, his closed eyes, his slightly open mouth, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. He was asleep. Peaceful. Happy, for once.

Dean looked back at the luggage in the backseat. He felt something inside him rip. Sam was leaving him. Again.

They were there, at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, but he couldn't bring himself to do it – wake his brother and let him walk out of his life once again. He wasn't sure he could handle going back to the solitary hunter's life he'd led after Sam left the first time. Even then, he'd had his father. Someone he didn't have anymore. Someone he'd never have again.

There were so many fears that ran through his mind when he thought of his little brother back at college, far away from Dean, far away from perhaps the one person who could protect him if anything happened. Yes, the Demon had seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth. That didn't make the threat of it suddenly reappearing any less real or frightening. Dean's stomach lurched when he thought of the thing.

Beside him, Sam stirred. He was going to wake up soon. Bracing himself and taking a huge breath, Dean leaned over and gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Sam," he said. His voice came out a hoarse whisper. "Sam," he repeated, a little louder.

Sam's eyes flew open as he took in their surroundings. Dean noticed some colour leave his face as he realized where they were.

"We're here," Dean said.

Sam stared out the front window, his eyes wide. "We're here," he repeated. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, and Dean realized that his brother was as scared as he was.

"Are you okay?" he asked. There was no use in asking if he was sure. Sam was sure. Dean knew that. It was just…

"I'm fine," he said. Dean saw his inner struggle, trying to get up the nerve to get out of the car and walk into his new life, at the same time desperately thinking of a reason not to go.

His knuckles turned white as he opened the door and got out of the Impala. Dean watched him take a moment to breathe.

"Let's go get something to eat," Sam suggested, without looking at his brother. "You know, before…"

He didn't finish and neither did Dean. The older Winchester simply got out of his car and followed Sam as he walked down the street, looking for a place to eat. Before Dean left and Sam went back to college. Before the boys were separated once again.

It was a modest one-person living space, small and cozy for Sam now that he wasn't living with anyone. Dean saw a flash of pain flicker through his brother's eyes as he looked around, obviously remembering the many times he'd spent with his girlfriend, Jessica, before she died, when they lived together. Dean wished he could say something. But every time he tried, his mind went blank. He didn't know what to say.

"I'll be able to get everything pretty soon," Sam said, breaking the silence, looking at his small amount of personal belongings. He bit his lip and looked around. "Wow."

"Wow what?"

Sam shook his head. "It's just…I don't know. I guess after a while you forget…I mean, I remember doing this with Jess…" His voice trailed off.

Dean tried for the hundredth time to come up with something to say, but again, there was nothing. He kept his mouth shut.

He glanced at his brother. Sam wanted him to say something. Dean could see it in the way the younger Winchester kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to make any kind of comment.

But there was nothing to say.

And there was so much to say.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

The words were out of his mouth before he had even thought of them, it seemed, and they made Sam's head snap up as he looked at his older brother. "What?"

"Please, Sammy…take care of yourself."

A slight smile came onto Sam's face. "Dean, I should be the one telling _you_ to take care of yourself. You're the one who'll be hunting evil, remember?"

Dean couldn't help but give a dry laugh. "I know." He sobered and looked his brother in the eye. "Still, Sam…we still don't know the big picture. The Demon might still be out there. You never know. You need to be careful."

"We _both_ need to be careful." There was no humour in Sam's voice now.

Dean looked down. "I know."

There was an awkward moment of silence. "Okay then," Sam said quietly. "Um…"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna take off, then," Dean said.

"You know, Dean, you can stay if you – "

"Nah," Dean replied quickly. "Thanks, though."

"Okay."

Dean turned around and headed for the door.

"Hey, Dean?"

He turned to face his brother. "Yeah?"

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

Slowly, Dean nodded. "I will, Sam." Then he turned and walked out the door.

He heard Sam somewhere behind him. "Call me!" his brother yelled.

"I will." _Every day_, he thought.

He'd call every day. More than once a day if he had time. Anything to make sure that his baby brother was safe.

* * *

_Five weeks later_

"Dean? What's wrong?"

Dean had been staying with Ellen and Jo at the roadhouse for a few days. Ash had helped him get some information on the history of a violent spirit a few towns away.

Jo rushed over to him, her eyes wide. "Dean. What's the matter?"

He'd been sitting at the bar, quietly flipping through some pages Ash had provided for him, when his cell phone rang. He had flipped it open and listened to whomever was talking to him, his face a mask of stone.

And then he hung up.

"Dean. Talk to me. What is it?"

The man's face was ashen, his eyes huge. His hands were shaking.

"Dean!"

Dean looked up at Jo slowly, and a darkness seemed to come into his eyes. "It's Sam," he said hoarsely. What little colour was left in his face drained away.

"And…"

Dean pressed his hands against the bar so hard, his knuckles turned white. "He's gone." He swallowed. "He disappeared. No one's seen him for the last two days."


	2. Chapter 2

So I totally realized that in my hurry to post the fanfic yesterday, I didn't actually say anything before the story itself. So I'll do it now: Hey, everyone. This is my _Supernatural_ fanfic. (Uh, duh?) I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. But beware: there is A LOT of angst, and very, very, very few happy parts. It is EXTREMELY depressing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Or Sam. Or Dean. Or anyone else. Only the fictional characters. Of which there are a few. Blah blah blah. :)

And now...Chapter 2!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Oh my God," Jo said. "Dean…how?"

His eyes were completely blank. It scared her. "Dean, talk to me. What happened?"

"I don't know." Somehow, his voice was steady, but his trembling hands and ashen face betrayed how he was really feeling.

"Do…do you know anything?"

With no warning, he got up and stormed out of the Roadhouse without a word.

Ellen came in from the back. "What was that?"

Jo sank into a chair. "He just told me that Sam's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean?" Ellen gave her daughter and impatient look. "You know he went back to school, Jo." She started to walk away.

"No, Mom. _Gone._ Like, disappeared gone. Missing."

"_What?_" Ellen spun around.

Jo nodded, unable to think of anything to say.

"Does Dean know anything?"

"No." She shook her head. "When I asked, her just…" She waved her hand at the door.

Without a word, Ellen went to the door and left.

Irritated, Jo followed her to go find Dean.

She ran up just as Ellen reached him. "Honey," her mother was saying, "let us help you."

"I have to go," Dean said, but he didn't move. He was leaning against his car, gripping the side so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Where?" Jo asked, coming forward.

"Where do you think?" He glared at her. "I'm going to Stanford. That's where he was when he…" His voice trailed off, and he gave a small, barely noticeable shudder. He still didn't move.

"You…" Ellen took a deep breath. "Do you think it was the Demon?"

"I don't know!" He finally made some sort of movement, turning to look at Ellen with an expression of mixed fear and anger on his face. His hands shaking again, he opened the door to the driver's seat.

"Whoa, Dean, wait." Jo grabbed his arm. "You're leaving _now?_"

"Jo, Sam's gone! Didn't you get that the first time I told you?" He stopped, breathing heavily. He shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just…"

"Whatever. It doesn't matter." Jo looked away from him. And what did her feelings matter to him, now? His brother was gone. Nothing else mattered but finding him. She knew the way Dean's mind worked.

Ellen hadn't taken her eyes off Dean. "Do you need money?"

"No. I'm good." He sat down in the driver's seat and put his hands on the wheel. He sat there, unmoving, his eyes blank again.

"Dean…" Ellen said softly.

He started and looked up. "Yeah." His voice was flat.

"What can we do?"

"Nothing. Just go back." He motioned towards the Roadhouse. He put in his keys and started the engine.

Jo and Ellen backed away. Jo felt her hurt and anger fade a bit as she watched Dean pull out of the parking lot and start to drive away.

Fluttering her hands nervously, Ellen went back into the Roadhouse. Jo watched Dean come to a stop before he went back out onto the road. She felt something inside her break when she saw him put his head down on the steering wheels. He was going to fall apart.

She went back in. "Mom, we can't let him go by himself."

"Jo, what are we supposed to do? He'll ask for help when he needs it. And he doesn't think he needs it right now."

Jo bit her lip. "He scared me, Mom."

Her mother ignored her. "Where's Ash when I need him? Damn it!" She put her head in her hands. "Oh, dear God, I don't want to know what that poor boy's going through right now."

"Dean?"

"Sam." Her mother blinked. "Well, I wouldn't want to be Dean either, but…"

Jo chewed on the inside of her cheek. "You think it's the Demon."

"Right now I can't think of anyone else who's want to hurt him."

"It could be anyone." Jo swallowed hard. "Maybe it's all a mistake. Maybe it's not the Demon. Maybe we're all just overreacting."

"Maybe," her mother replied. "Or maybe not." She walked away and knocked loudly and forcefully on Ash's door.

"Ash! Get your sorry ass out here right now before I skin you alive. Something happened. Sam Winchester disappeared."


	3. Chapter 3

I know everyone wants to know what happened to Sam. Well...that's coming. Be warned that even though the plot revolves around Sam, the story is actually pretty Dean-centric. If that makes any sense. It's kind of weird, because when I started to write this, I meant it to be Sam-centric. Oh, well.

So have patience, and a good dose of Sam is coming soon. :) Until then, though, enjoy Chapter 3!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Stanford University, Palo Alto, California_

She seemed nervous. Every minute or so, she would bite her lip and glance at Dean with a worried look in her eyes, almost as if she was afraid of him.

"Sam talked about you a lot," she said with a weak smile. "You're his brother, right?"

Dean tried to say, "Yes," but his throat seemed to be constricted. He nodded. "Yeah," he finally managed to get out in a hoarse croak.

"I'm Elizabeth, Schaefer," she said opening the door to her dorm wider and gesturing for him to come in. "Sam and I are – were – are friends." She looked away as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping her eyes.

"It's all right," Dean said, fighting the urge to start to sob right along with her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Please, Elizabeth. You have to tell me everything. Everything you know. I have to find my brother."

She nodded. "I'm pretty sure I was the last one to see Sam. Or, at least, to talk to him."

Dean tried to react, but everything within him still felt frozen, cold, and unresponsive. This girl, this Elizabeth Schaefer – she might know something. About the night Sam went missing.

He hadn't known it at that time – but this Elizabeth Schaefer might know something about the night his whole world fell apart.

* * *

"We met up at the library," Elizabeth told Dean. "Just by chance. I mean, we're friends and all, but it wasn't planned or anything. We were just getting books for school." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "We started to talk and we decided to go grab something to eat downtown. He seemed…" She paused. "I don't know, lonely. I didn't him when he went here before, but…I thought maybe he was just sad or something, because, you know, last time he was here…" Her voice trailed off. 

"Yeah, I know," Dean said quietly, remembering the night he pulled his brother out of that burning room, listening to him scream for his girlfriend, who by that time was turned into ashes from the fire. Somewhere, something inside him seemed to break.

"Anyway," she continued, as Dean snapped out of his memories, "we went to eat, and then we just kinda walked around and talked. It was fun. We both had a good time. When I figured I should probably get back home, I said I was taking off and asked him if he was heading back, and he said no."

Dean tensed up. "Where'd he go?"

"At first it seemed like he didn't want to tell me, but when I asked him again, he said he was going to the cemetery."

A sigh escaped him. He should have known. He'd gone to visit Jessica's grave.

"That was it, really," Elizabeth continued. "We promised to hang out again sometime soon, and then he went to the cemetery, and I came back here." She gave him a sad smile. "I called the next day, but he didn't answer his phone. No one else had seen or talked to him, either. I asked around all over town, but no luck." She closed her eyes and gulped.

Dean nodded. "Was it you who called the police?" It was one Officer Jennings who had contacted him the day before.

"At the end of the day I did. We – a friend and I – went to the cemetery twice, to see if, like, you know, he'd fallen asleep there or something, but he wasn't there. At first we thought he was just, like, out, but he wasn't answering his cell, either. Something was wrong."

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, thinking, frozen and unresponsive again. "You ever find his cell?"

She shook her head. "No." After a moment, she added, obviously trying to sound hopeful, "Maybe he still has it."

"Maybe," Dean murmured, knowing it wasn't true. He stood up, and, forcing some emotion into his voice, said, "Elizabeth, thank you so much for your help. I know it had to be hard for you."

She gave him one of those frightened looks again, as if she knew he was lying through his teeth. Then she wiped her eyes. "It's no problems. Anything to help." She grabbed a pen and paper from the table they had been sitting at and scribbled something on it. "Here's my cell number. Please, call me if you find anything else."

"I will." He turned to leave, and then stopped. How do you get to the cemetery from here?"

Elizabeth got up and fished through her purse. "I have a map of Palo Alto somewhere…" she murmured. Something fell out of her purse as she looked for it. She picked it up. "Here it is." She walked over and handed it to him.

"Thanks. I'll give it back soon." She nodded. "Hey, Elizabeth…this might sound weird, but has it rained at all since Sam disappeared?"

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Yeah. Why?"

He shook his head. "I was just wondering." He gave her a half-hearted smile, turned around, and left.

He felt as if he were drowning. Ellen had asked him if he thought it was the Demon. Of course he thought it was the Demon. Who else would want to kidnap Sam? He bit his lip and felt the skin break, tasting blood. _Goddamn rain._ There would be no traces of sulphur at Jessica Moore's gravestone, now.

He felt as if he were drowning. He felt sick. He felt as if he had no hope left at all.


	4. Chapter 4

So here's Chapter 4...again from Dean's POV. He continues to search for clues about Sam's disappearance. We'll find out about Sam soon:)

Enjoy!

-Caitlyn

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4**

_Palo Alto Cemetery, Palo Alto, California_

Dean felt his stomach lurch at the sight of a police car in the cemetery parking lot. He wasn't wanted for murder anymore, having cleared that up months ago, but he still got a tiny thrill of fear whenever he had to deal with the police.

He gulped, watching a few police officers near the edge of the cemetery, talking to one another. He wondered if they were there because of Sam's disappearance. _Only one way to find out_, he thought.

One of the officers noticed as Dean approached. "Excuse me," he called, "this particular area of the cemetery is sealed off for the moment." His voice was kind, not forceful. Dean realized that the man thought he was in the cemetery to mourn.

"I'm not visiting anyone's grave," Dean told him.

An irritated look came onto the officer's face. "Well, then, I'm afraid you're going to have to leave, sir. We'd like as few people as possible here today."

"Is Officer Jennings around?" Dean asked, ignoring him.

"Look, kid, I don't have time for this. Get lost."

"Don't call me 'kid,' " Dean snapped at him. "I'm probably older than you are. Is Officer Jennings here or not?"

"I said, get out of here!"

"I heard someone say my name. Who's looking for me?" A short, brown-haired woman with brown eyes and a slightly pudgy face stood behind them, her eyes narrowed.

"He is," the male officer said, gesturing and glaring at Dean.

She stepped forward and held out her hand. Dean shook it warily, recalling that last time a police officer had offered to shake hands. A little wave of nausea seemed to wash over him as he remembered that Sam had been missing then, too. "I'm Officer Jennings," she told him.

"Dean Winchester," Dean said.

She froze and looked at him, her eyes wide. "Oh," she said quietly. An embarrassed look came onto the other man's face. Dean's hand tightened into a fist. They were here because of Sam. They would have had that reaction if they didn't know the name "Winchester."

"Come with me," Officer Jennings said, starting to walk. Dean followed her silently, not knowing what to say.

"Why are you all here?" Dean asked finally, gesturing toward the group of police officers. The other guy had joined them and appeared to be telling them who Dean was. "Is it because of…"

A sad look came onto Officer Jennings' face. "Yes. Mr. Winchester, I am so sorry. We're doing everything we can." Dean nodded. "We did a full search of the cemetery because we were told that that's where your brother was heading when he was last seen."

Dean nodded again. "I know. I talked to Elizabeth Schaefer."

"The girl who filed the report. Right," Officer Jennings said. "So far the only thing we have on your brother is his cell phone."

Dean's stomach dropped. "His phone?"

She nodded. "We found it over there a little before you arrived."

"You're sure it's his?" Dean asked, nearly choking on his own words. He cleared his throat, trying to contain his emotions.

"The address book inside has your name at the top." She paused. "We bagged it over there. Do you want to see it?"

Dean nodded, unable to speak.

_What were you hoping for?_ he asked himself angrily. _Did you think you'd get here and find Sam asleep somewhere, and he just hadn't heard his phone?_

If only it were that simple.

He felt sick when he saw that goddamn cell phone in the evidence bag, lightly dusted with dirt as though someone had made a feeble attempt to bury it somewhere. Dean shut his eyes and swallowed hard. _Oh God._

_Sammy._

* * *

So, there you have it, folks, Chapter 4. Chapter 5 brings us Sam and his seven billionth deadly predicament...yay! ;) lol 


	5. Chapter 5

Yay for Sam-centric chapters. And guess what...the next one is, too! So here is the long-awaited (well, not so long) Sammy chapter! Where is he? Why is he here? Will these questions be answered? Or is Chapter 5 just a useless filler chapter so you won't really learn anything until Chapter 6?

So many questions, so little time...**

* * *

**

**Chapter 5**

Sam slowly tried to open his eyes. It was difficult. His eyelids felt heavy. His limbs felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. Something seemed to be pulling him towards the deep darkness of unconsciousness. He felt his eyes flutter shut.

_No. Wait._ Something was wrong. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. It wasn't normal, this heavy feeling, this sleepiness. He forced his eyes open again. At least, he thought he did. It was just as dark in front of his eyelids as it was behind them.

There were thoughts floating around in his mind, somewhere, but they were scattered and disorganized. He struggled to collect them. _What the hell?_ was the first one that made coherent sense.

Another wave of sleepiness washed over him, and he closed his eyes again. His head fell back against something as his body went limp, his mind drifting into a senseless fog.

He never knew how long he lay there, motionless, in a daze, unaware of his surroundings. Somewhere in the mist that seemed to have devoured his mind, he felt the underlying sense that something was terribly wrong, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

After lying there for some time, he slowly started to come to his senses. He opened his eyes once again and found that it was less of a struggle, although the rest of his body still felt heavy and numb. A jolt of fear shot through him. _Oh God. What is going on?_

He tried to examine his surroundings, but wherever he was, it was dark, and it was hard to see where he was.

Somewhere in the darkness he heard a sound – the sound of a key turning in a lock. He felt panic set in.

Sam tried to move, tried to get up – and failed. With growing horror, he realized his hands were tied behind his back. He struggled against the rough rope that bound his hands together, but it was useless – the knots were tight. Across the room, a door opened and light flooded into the room. A sick feeling of fear settled into his stomach.

"Sam." An all-too-familiar pair of yellow eyes peered mockingly at him. "How nice to see you're finally awake.

Sam tried, pointlessly, to shrink back against the wall as the Demon advanced, slowly but surely, gripping a knife.

* * *

So yay for disgusting horrible bad evil demonic cliffhangers. Next up...SucksToBeSam, Continued! lol. Hope you liked it:) 


	6. Chapter 6

So here's Chapter 6...anyone ready for more Sam/Demon AngstBanterAngerDepressingness? (Yes, I DO know that "depressingness" is not a word...) Well, too bad, here it is!**

* * *

**

Chapter 6

"What do you want?" Sam asked, his voice weak and unable to mask his fear. "What am I doing here?"

The Demon didn't answer, and Sam racked his brains trying to remember how he could have gotten himself into this mess, but he drew a blank. The last thing he remembered was heading towards the library. When had that happened? He didn't know. He started to breathe heavily, again struggling against the rope around his wrists.

"Relax, Sammy." There was sadistic laughter in those yellow eyes. "I just want to talk."

"Get away from me," Sam said, through gritted teeth, trying to hide his panic. He desperately wished he had enough strength to fight back against the thing. He still felt weak, though, from whatever the Demon had done to him.

The Demon had possessed the body of a man who seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties, definitely older and stronger than Sam. Even if the guy hadn't been possessed, there was no way Sam could win a fight against him.

Sam tried to inch away, but it was like he couldn't move. "What do you want from me?" he choked out. He tried to hide the tears that had welled up in his eyes. _Stop it!_ he told himself angrily.

"Why, Sam," came that taunting voice. "You don't trust me. I just want to talk."

"Go to hell!" Sam turned his face away.

"Been there, done that." The Demon laughed.

"_What am I doing here?_"

"You've been very annoying, you and your brother," the Demon said, ignoring Sam and moved into his line of sight. "You've gotten in the way of more than one of my plans." It directed its yellow eyed gaze right at Sam. "And now you're going to pay for it."

Sam was shaking, but he forced himself to look into those yellow eyes. "Let me go," he said quietly, knowing even as he spoke the words that they would have no effect.

"Not a chance, Sammy boy." The Demon knelt down beside him, glaring at him with a look of pure loathing.

"Where's Dean?" Fear washed over Sam as it occurred to him that they might have gotten his brother, too.

"Dean? Oh, he's fine," the Demon said with a laugh. "He still doesn't know. About you, I mean." The Demon smiled. "He's in the middle of a hunt, staying with your friends at the Roadhouse." The Demon winked, mocking him. "We're keeping an eye on him, I promise."

"Stay the hell away from my brother!" Sam desperately twisted his arms, trying to get free. "If you do anything to him – "

It laughed. "What will you do, Sam?" It shook its head. "You're done. You have no power. You lose." It leaned forward. "You're going to die here, Sam Winchester."

The Demon brandished the knife it was holding. Panicking, Sam tried to pull away, but it grabbed his arm. Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

The Demon viciously yanked him forward, away from the wall. Sam winced. _I really am going to die here…_

It reached behind him. Sam could almost sense the blade nearing his flesh. A thousand regrets rushed through his mind.

There was a sawing noise, and a moment later Sam fell forward as his hands were freed and the Demon let go of him. He was still weak. He looked up dizzily. He supported himself on violently shaking arms.

The Demon chuckled and stood up. "I'll be seeing you, Sam." Sam's head flew back as its foot connected with his jaw. He could taste blood. He watched blearily as the Demon went towards the door and left, slamming and locking it, and Sam was once again left in the dark.

* * *

So yeah. Chapter 6. Lovely, isn't it? NOT! Anyway, Chapter 7 brings us back to Dean...and Jo. And more angst. What else is new? 


	7. Chapter 7

OK so I guess people are confused as to why YED wants to kill Sam...sorry, didn't mean to confuse anyone. Yeah, in the show, it does want to use Sam blah blah blah, and when I was first making up the story that was the original plan. However, it didn't work the way I wanted it to, so I set it in the future. I figured that the Demon would, after a while, get really tired of Sam/Dean/both/either/whatever screwing up its plans and always attempting to kill it. So, what better way to eliminate a problem than to get rid of it entirely? (I am not a psychopath! I just have a weird imagination!) Hence the Demon's plans to kill Sam. Yay. Not.

Anyway...Chapter 7, everyone:)

**

* * *

**

Chapter 7

Jo didn't know what to expect. She reached out and knocked lightly on the door, nervously. Her hands were trembling. She stuffed them into her pockets, trying to hide such an obvious sign of weakness.

"Dean?" she called, trying not to be too loud. "Dean, I know this is your hotel room. Let me in." There was no answer.

Frustrated, she knocked again. "Dean. Let me in." But there was no response from inside.

Jo sighed, irritated. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She weighed her options. She could break down the door, but if he wasn't there, that would attract a lot of unwanted embarrassment and trouble. She could just sit down in front of his door and do nothing until he returned to the hotel – but that would be boring as hell, and there wasn't even a guarantee that he would come back for the night. Her final option was to go back to her car and stake the damn hotel until she saw him. _Or_, she though, as another idea occurred to her, _I could actually go look for him._

Jo turned on her heel and walked away from Dean's empty hotel room. _Damn you, Dean Winchester!_ she thought irritably. Finding him in this damn city, she knew, would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

She brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes and left the hotel. She had no idea where to start. Where would Dean go? She tried to get into Dean's mind frame. Moody Scared. Angry. Impossibly hot.

Her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought, and she quickly pushed it out of her mind. _Stop it!_ she told herself furiously. _Be serious!_

"Jo?"

Jo spun around. "Dean!" She sighed with relief when she saw him standing there.

His face hardened. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just happened to be in the area," Jo said sarcastically. "Why do you think I'm here?" Then she remembered for herself why she was in Palo Alto. _Oops._ Maybe sarcasm wasn't the smartest approach in this situation. She took a deep breath and took a long, hard look at Dean. "You scared me and Mom, Dean. We're worried about you."

"She knows you're here this time?" Dean asked, pointedly ignoring her last sentence. She flinched, knowing he was referring to the time she had followed Dean and Sam on a hunt a few years before, without her mother's permission and with undesirable results.

"Yes," she said, slightly irritably, "she knows I'm here. You can call her if you want," she added, seeing the doubtful look on his face. It was true. He didn't need to know about the argument she and Ellen had had about it. It was irrelevant.

"We're worried about you, Dean."

"I'm fine." He started to walk away.

Jo rushed forward and grabbed his arm. "Dean, wait. I'm sorry. I was being insensitive."

"I _told_ you. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." She took a deep breath. "Do…do you know anything else?"

He pulled free and kept walking. Jo felt her eyes fill with tears. "Dean, please stop it." She followed behind him.

"Why are you here, Jo?" His voice was angry and his stride was quick. "I don't need your help, all right? Go back home."

"No."

He stopped and turned to look at her. "Jo. Just…go." He paused. "Please."

"_No_, Dean. Don't give me your bullshit about being fine. Please. Just talk to me. Tell me what you know. Mom, Ash, and I are part of this, too, remember?"

He gave an impatient sigh, but Jo knew that he'd cave. He was wavering.

"I met with the police," he said wearily. "And the last person who talked to him." He slowly started walking again, this time letting Jo walk alongside him. "They…the police…found his phone. His cell phone. It was in the cemetery." He gave his head a little shake, like he was trying to clear it. "That's where he was. The cemetery, I mean. That's what they think. He was visiting Jessica's grave." After a moment, he added, "His old girlfriend."

Jo felt her heart sink. "Oh, Dean," she said softly. She had always liked the older Winchester better than his younger brother, but she felt fear and pity for Sam as Dean talked. "The bastards," she said quietly.

"At his dead girlfriend's grave," Dean said angrily, turning his face away from her. There was a note of fury and disgust in his voice. "_At her grave_. They knew he was vulnerable…"

"They were watching him," Jo muttered, thinking. "They're probably watching you, too," she realized.

Silence. Then, "I know."

She stared at him, wishing he would look her in the eye. "What are you going to do?"

"What am I supposed to do? I don't know anything. About anything. At all. I have absolutely no _way_ of knowing anything. It could be anyone. They could be anywhere. _You_ could be possessed!"

Jo stopped and glared at him, angry that he would say that, but then she realized that he wasn't accusing her of it. In fact, he didn't seem concerned at all. She bit her lip, hard. This wasn't the Dean she knew. He had let his guard down. He was so engrossed in his worry for his brother, he forgotten that his own life was also in danger.

She took a deep breath. "_Hail Mary, full of grace,_" she began, "_the Lord is with Thee. Blessed are Thou amongst women, and Blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus._"

He stared at her, bewildered. "What the hell?" he asked blankly.

She looked at him, shocked. "Proof," she told him. "You said _I_ could be possessed. Just a minute ago," she reminded him. "I'm not." She paused. "You can trust me."

He looked at her with such desperation in his eyes that she instinctively reached out and grabbed his hand. "You _have_ to trust me."

He pulled his hand away. "I can't trust anyone anymore," he said quietly. Then he started to walk away, his head down, and his demeanour beaten and hopeless.

* * *

And that's the end of yet another Dean chapter. Chapter 8 brings a new character into this mess (an original character, made up by me), who has a _history_ with one of the brothers Winchester and a creepy ability to predict the future. But whose future is she seeing - and can it be changed? 


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it took so long update! I don't know if anyone else was having problems, but the site wouldn't let me upload any documents. Anyway, here's Chapter 8 now! We meet a girl who's having creepy dreams...hmmm...**  
****

* * *

**

**Chapter 8**

"Help me…"

Her eyes flickered open. Someone was calling for help. She rose up from the floor, cold and hard, and looked around. Who was calling?

"Help me…"

She could hear the voice, but it was faint and distorted. She didn't recognize it. She couldn't even tell if it was male or female.

"Please, help me…please…"

She felt her pulse quicken. Whoever, wherever this person was, he or she was desperate. They needed help, and they needed it now.

"Hello?" she called out. "Who's there?" Her voice echoed in the dark. "Where are you?"

She screamed as a hand came out of nowhere, reaching for her. it was covered in blood – no, it was bleeding. She gagged at the sight of a deep slice across the palm of the hand – bleeding, bleeding uncontrollably. There was blood everywhere.

She swallowed her terror and reached for the hand, for the person who so desperately needed her help. But it was slimy with blood, and her hand slipped off the other. Suddenly, the bleeding hand stopped moving, went limp, and fell out of sight.

She looked down at her own hand. Blood. Slimy, red blood. Blood on her hands.

At 4:03 p.m., in Hell, Michigan, Cecilia Black sat up in bed, violently awakened from her nightmare, screaming.

"Help me!"

* * *

Anyway, so that's Chapter 8. Chapter 9 brings us back to Sam, again...and he's not exactly in the greatest shape. 


	9. Chapter 9

Back to Sam...again...and he is not in the greatest shape... :(**

* * *

**

**Chapter 9**

Sam opened his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping. He hadn't slept since he woke up from the obviously drug-induced daze before his "talk" with the Demon. He didn't know how long it had been since the bastard had left him in the tiny room. Part of him didn't care. He didn't _want_ to know. He didn't want to think.

The thoughts were coming now, though, quickly and uncontrollably. How on Earth had he gotten here? He felt sick. He still didn't remember anything. Where was Dean? _How_ was Dean? Was he all right? Did he know that Sam was missing? He thought of what the Demon had told him. Slowly, he started to get angry.

He hated that thing. How many times had it succeeded in shattering his world into a thousand and one tiny pieces? And, every time he started to put it back together…And now this.

He turned over, burying his face in his arm, and started to cry. Somewhere in his mind, he vaguely wondered if the Demon and all its cronies were watching him. He didn't care. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

Sam raised his head off his arm. He felt weak, tired, and drained, even though the effects of whatever he'd been drugged with had worn off a while ago. How could this have happened? He shut his eyes and shuddered. _How could this have happened?_

"Help me," he whispered, knowing even as he spoke that it would serve no purpose. "Please, help me." He didn't even know who he was talking to. He didn't care. Dean. God. His parents. Anyone who could hear him.

And yet, no one would be able to help him anyway. Whether they could hear him or not.

He lifted himself up on trembling arms. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, by now, though there wasn't much to see. Dark stone walls. The door the Demon had come through. The only door. He turned around to look behind him.

No, wait. There _was_ another door. He stood up, filled with trepidation, his legs shaking. Did he really want to know what was behind that door?

As it turned out, his worry was in vain. Partly. It was just a washroom. A filthy one. Disgust and hopelessness seemed to wash over Sam. His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his hands and knees.

He gave a cry as pain shot through his right hand. He fell backwards and gripped his hand at the wrist. His eyes widened in shock. Blood was pouring from a deep, straight wound on the palm of his hand. He breathed heavily, watching it bleed for a moment. Then he came to his senses and frantically tried to think of something to do about it.

He didn't know where his jacket was. He didn't even know if he had been _wearing_ a jacket when the Demon had gotten him. He ripped off the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing and threw it aside, next taking off the T-shirt he'd been wearing underneath. He tried to rip off a piece to wrap up the cut, but his bleeding right hand was next to useless. He slammed his elbow down on his shirt and used his left hand to rip off part of the shirt from the hem. With a loud ripping sound it came off and he clumsily tied it around his bloody right hand.

He stood up, trembling. What the hell had sliced his hand open? What had happened?

Sam stumbled over to where he'd cut himself, feeling sicker than ever. He squinted into the darkness near where he'd hurt his hand. He knelt there and held his right hand in his uninjured one. There had to be _something_ he'd cut it on…

He felt his heart drop into his stomach. He saw what he'd cut himself on. It was an all-too-familiar object.

Lying bloody and still on the cold concrete floor, he saw, was a knife. He knew that it had not been left in that room by accident. And he knew exactly why it had been left there.

* * *

Next comes Chapter 10 (duh), where we learn a little more about Cecilia Black. Not much, but it should be enough if you're wondering about her... 


	10. Chapter 10

Here we are again, another update. We return to Cecilia Black, and her creepy nightmare...**

* * *

**

**Chapter 10**

"What the _hell_?" Cecilia's roommate Cassie nearly fell of her bed. She blinked sleep out of her eyes, staring at Cecilia like she'd grown a second head. "What's wrong?"

Cecilia gasped for breath, her mind still filled with the images from her nightmare. She realized that she was hyperventilating, sobbing, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe.

"Whoa, whoa!" Cassie said, jumping off her bed as she realized what was going on. "Cecilia. Breathe. Please. Come on."

Cecilia got off her bed and staggered on weak legs to the window, sucking in the cool night air as she tried to calm herself. She gripped the ledge. It was happening again.

Cassie approached her slowly as Cecilia stopped hyperventilating. "Are you okay now?"

Cecilia shook her head. "I had a dream. A nightmare." She was still crying. Tears rolled down her face.

Cassie nodded. "I know. When you wake up _screaming_ in the middle of the night – " She topped when she saw that Cecilia was crying. "Oh, God! You mean…one of _those_ nightmares?"

Cecilia nodded.

"Oh," Cassie said, a look of shock coming onto her face. She gulped. "Oh, God."

Cecilia shook her head. "I thought they were done…for a while, at least…not _again_…"

"You were just having them, like, a month ago," Cassie said in disbelief. "How could they have started up again so soon?"

"I don't know."

It wasn't uncommon. Cecilia had been having horrifying nightmares for years. It was something she had been living with since after high school. It wasn't the scary and often gory content that scared her. It was the fact that her nightmares always meant something. They never usually started up again so fast, though.

Cecilia was a psychic. Her dreams almost always foretold something.

And this dream, she feared, was no different.

"What did you dream about?" Cassie asked, backing out of the room and heading in the direction of the kitchen. "Like, are you all right? Was it gross?"

Cecilia nodded even though she was alone in the room now. Gross. It was _gross_, all right. It didn't even begin to describe it.

She stepped away from the window and followed Cassie to the kitchen. She couldn't help but smile when she saw her friend standing on a chair, pulling a giant bag of hot chocolate mix from the cupboard. She'd turned the kettle on, too, she noticed.

"You're such a good friend," she murmured. A jolt of terror ran through her as she realized that she had no idea who it had been, calling for help, in her dream. It could be Cassie.

It could be anybody.

"You're not answering my question," Cassie reproached her, unceremoniously dumping a huge amount of hot chocolate powder into two large mugs. "What did you dream about?"

Cecilia stayed quiet for a moment, trying to collect everything she had seen, in her mind.

Cassie glared at her. "Cecilia. Don't ignore me. I can't help you if – "

"I'm not ignoring you." Cecilia pulled the chair Cassie had been standing on over to the table and sat down. "I'm just…remembering." She shuddered.

"Oh, God. Was it horrible?"

Cecilia nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "It was."

The kettle started to scream and Cassie rushed to grab it. She poured the hot water into the mugs with the hot chocolate mix, then spent a moment adding a liberal amount of cream to each one. "Here you go," she said, placing a mug with a bug-eyed cat on it in front of Cecilia. "Now. Talk."

Cecilia wrapped her left hand around the warm mug and chewed on the thumbnail of her right one. "It was like I woke up from this really deep sleep," she began. "Someone was calling for help. That's what woke me up. I went to look for them, but I couldn't find anyone. It was so dark. Like, pitch black. Everywhere."

Cassie reached over and patted her arm sympathetically. "What next?" she prodded.

Cecilia gulped. "Whoever it was…they just kept calling for help. I couldn't find them. Then, suddenly, like, out of nowhere – " She nearly choked the words out.

Cassie squeezed her arm. "Come on, Cici. You know it's always easier once you talk about it. Tell me."

Cecilia stared down at her right hand, still seeing the blood in her mind. "This hand just came out of nowhere. It reached for me – it was whoever needed help – so I grabbed it. But it was bleeding, Cass." Here eyes filled with tears. "There was blood everywhere. They had a cut on their hand, like this – " She traced the straight line on her own palm. "It was so long, and so deep…it was bleeding like crazy…"

Cassie's eyes were huge. "Oh, gosh, Cecilia." She paused. "Do you know who it was?"

Cecilia shook her head. "No. I have no idea who it was."

Cassie took a deep breath. "Well, that makes helping them a little more difficult."

Cecilia nodded.

"Are you gonna go back to sleep?"

"No," Cecilia replied, shaking her head. "You just gave me hot chocolate. How do you expect me to fall back asleep?"

Cassie laughed a little and smiled ruefully at the kitchen clock, which now read 4:26 a.m. "Yeah. I guess that was a stupid thing to do."

"Made me feel better, though," Cecilia remarked gratefully. And it was true. The sweet warmth of the hot chocolate had cleared her mind and washed away what was left of the hysteria.

"I know," Cassie said. "But I've known you since forever, remember. I know you better than you know yourself." She gave another small laugh. "If we're going to save this person, we have to find out who it is. And in order to do that…" Her face fell as she spoke. "You have to have another nightmare."

* * *

GASP! lol, just kidding. Anyway, Chapter 11...OH MY GOD! Sam again! 

Enjoy:)


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

And back to Sam again. Savour it, we don't switch back to his POV until Chapter 16. So here it is: poor Sammy:_

* * *

_

_"I'll see you tomorrow?" Elizabeth called._

_"For sure," Sam called back over his shoulder. "Bye, Liz." _

_"Bye!" _

_He felt guilty, a little, about telling her where he was heading. The conversation had been going so well, and then she'd asked where he was going. _

_He couldn't hold off any longer, though. He'd been putting off visiting Jessica's grave ever since he'd arrived in __Palo Alto__, but he couldn't do it anymore. His aching need for her, even if it was just her grave, had won out over his fearful apprehension to face the past. _

_Even though it had been a while since he'd walked these streets, his legs seemed to remember where they were going. He walked away slowly, not too eager to get to the cemetery, yet at the same time desperate to get there/ _

_A cool breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees as he entered through the wrought iron gate that led tot the cemetery. He paused a moment, unsure of where he was going. It had been so long. _

_Faint memories tripped over themselves in his mind, giving him a vague idea of where he was headed. He meandered along the gravel path, looking around him for any graves marked "_ _Moore__." _

_Then he saw it. _

_He stood awkwardly in front of the gray stone slab. "Hey, Jess," he whispered. He took a deep breath and fought back tears. "It's been a while." _

_He glanced away, as if to hide his watering, and continued. "I don't really have an excuse. I – " _

_He stopped. Someone was behind him. He sucked in his breath angrily. Finally, a chance to face his demons, in private, and someone thought it would be funny to sneak up on him and eavesdrop on him – _

_"Get lost," he said loudly, angrily. "I bet you think it's real funny, don't you?" _

_There was no reply but the sound of someone shuffling his or her feet. Sam clenched his jaw, his irritation mounting to fury, and turned around. _

Sam awoke with a start, breathing heavily and shaking, borderline uncontrollably. He realized he had fallen asleep after he'd attempted to bandage his hand. He was shivering because he hadn't put his shirt back on. Cursing his stupidity, he half-crawled to where he'd thrown his shirt before. He stared at it. Now what? He looked down at his limp, bloody right hand. It was useless.

_Oh, what an adventure_, he thought. Getting a shirt on one-handed. He sweating and almost panting by the time he got it on.

Ignoring the sudden exhaustion that seemed to overwhelm him, he stood up. Dizziness washed over him and he woozily reached out for the wall with his left hand. Once he'd been steadied again, he squinted once more at his injured hand. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, he noted, though the material he'd ripped off his T-shirt was still damp from his blood. He gingerly unwrapped the cloth and touched the wound. It burned.

He swore. It was dirty. It needed to be washed. For all he knew, he could be infected with AIDS by now. Who knew where that knife had been?

He gripped the bloody cloth in his left hand and made his way to the washroom. It was sickeningly disgusting in there, but least there was a sink. With water. Hopefully, it wasn't filthy, too.

After running the faucet for about half a minute, the water cleared from its brown murkiness to a half-decent clarity. He twisted the tap to lower the power of the stream, then slid his hand beneath the water.

He gasped as every inch of skin on his hand seemed to be set on fire. The skin along his cut felt like it was split right open.

In fact, it was.

He swore out loud again and shut the tap off. It had started to bleed again – not as hard as it had been, but that was definitely blood seeping out from the wound on his palm.

He stepped out of the washroom and looked for the T-shirt he was now using for bandages. He ripped off another piece, with less difficulty this time, and wrapped it around his hand.

Sam paused for a moment, holding his injured hand with his left one. Now what?

He glanced at the knife on the floor, and a sick feeling of fear and anger rose up inside of him. _"You're going to die here, Sam Winchester." _

_Sam clenched his jaw, his irritation mounting to fury, and turned around._

He blinked. _Oh, God._ That was what he'd been dreaming about. He'd had a dream about visiting Jess in Palo Alto. _Oh, God._

_"Hey, Jess," he whispered. He took a deep breath and fought back tears. "It's been a while." _

No. That was backwards.

_Sam clenched his jaw, his irritation mounting to fury, and turned around._

Right after that. He gritted his teeth and concentrated. _Right_ after that. He had turned around. He had turned around and…

_"Get lost," he said loudly, angrily. "I bet you think it's real funny, don't you?" _

_There was no reply but the sound of someone shuffling his or her feet. Sam clenched his jaw, his irritation mounting to fury, and turned around. _

_The first punch met him squarely in the jaw. He went flying and hit the ground. He tried to get away. He struggled. _What the hell? _What was going on? He was trying to get away… _

_Someone pinned him to the ground. He couldn't get up. He couldn't breathe. And, before he could even think, something cool and damp was pressed over his nose and mouth and everything just slipped away. _

Sam felt tears well up in his eyes as he sank to his knees. The bastards. They'd gotten him…taken him from Jessica's grave. A sick feeling of roiling anger churned in his stomach. The Demon – or its followers – had followed him. Lain low for a while. Make him think he was safe. Then taken him in a weak moment.

And locked him in an empty room with nothing but a knife, so that if he didn't die naturally, he could kill himself.

* * *

And that's it. Next, Dean and Cecilia come face to face. It isn't for the first time, however. 


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry it took me so long to update! Here's Chapter 12...some time has passed, and someone is looking for Dean. ;)**

* * *

**

**Chapter 12**

_Two months later_

Dean was staring at the ceiling. He couldn't remember that last time he'd slept. It had to have been a week, at least. Or longer. Maybe shorter. He didn't really know. It didn't really matter. Not anymore.

Runaway. _Runaway. _The logical explanation. No contact from any kidnapper at all – no ransom demand, nothing. No reason for any person to hurt Sam.

No reason for any _person_ to hurt Sam.

How many times had it crossed Dean's mind to call up Officer Jennings and tell her the truth? How many times had he written the conversation in his mind?

And, how many times had he seen himself locked up in an insane asylum?

No. It was a battle he'd have to fight on his own. He would find Sam. Alive. Sam was alive. He had to be.

He just had to be.

Dean was at the Roadhouse. He had stayed in Palo Alto for three months, but Jo and Ellen – via a phone call – had convinced him to go back to the Roadhouse for a while. Hanging around in California and stalking Officer Jennings wasn't really helping anyone or anything since the police ended the investigation. Ash, Ellen had reminded him, was monitoring all over the country for any signs of the Demon. If he was there, with them, he'd find out sooner.

But there was nothing. Not a thing. It was completely pointless, everywhere he went. He was no closer to finding his brother than he had been three months before.

Someone knocked on the door. "Dean?" It was Jo's voice. "Some girl's here asking for you. She says it's serious. She just keeps asking for you. Like, hysterically. She's freaking out, Dean. She wants to talk to you." There was a pause. "You and Sam."

Dean didn't answer for a moment. Then he replied, "I'm coming." He heard Jo sigh, then walk away. He stood up and grabbed his gun. He didn't know who wanted to talk to him so badly, or why. it could be anybody. Or, he thought with a flutter of fear in his stomach, anything.

He entered the bar area, not knowing what to expect. He felt his eyes widen when he saw who stood inside waiting for him, chewing nervously on her thumbnail.

"Cecilia?" He took a step forward, staring in shock at the psychic girl he and Sam had met the previous year. She spun around at the sound of her name.

"Oh, God," she whispered, her eyes sweeping over him. "He's already gone, isn't he?"

Dean just stared at her. She was a psychic, but different from Sam – cryptic dreams gave her clues to the future. He, himself, had been the object of her premonitions when they met. He knew why she was here.

She'd been having dreams about Sam.

He remembered the last conversation they had ever had; she had pulled him aside and asked him to take care of Sam. Confused, he'd agreed, but asked why. Only now he remembered her reason: the first time they had touched, she had had a _feeling_. As stupid as it sounded, both of them knew – Dean from experience – that it could be fatal to ignore a psychic's _feelings_ or premonitions. He had only barely escaped after not taking her seriously the first time around.

That feeling, whatever it had been – it had been for _this_. Whatever had happened to Sam.

"I was too late," she whispered. She sank into a chair. "Oh, God, I'm too late."

Cecilia was trembling, Dean noticed, and crying. He walked over to her and sat down. "You were having dreams about him, weren't you?"

She nodded. "I had the first one, like, three months ago. I had no idea what it meant. But I didn't have any more." She gave a shivery, hiccupping breath. "They started again last week." Tears started to pour down her face. "Oh, God. I didn't realize who they were about…until, like, three days ago. I tried to call Sam's cell, but it didn't go through…then I remembered he wrote down this address." She was breathing heavier now, her words spilling out quickly, almost hysterically. "I never got your number…I would have called. I just came here…I thought I'd get here in time…I'm so sorry…"

Dean frowned, watching her cry. "In time…what do you mean?"

"The numbers. The number s in my dreams. They're days. At least I thought so." She cried harder. "I guess not."

"How many days were left in your last nightmare?" Dean's heart was pounding.

She stared at him. "Um…eight…so it would be seven now," she said. "But if he's already gone…"

"Yeah. Gone." Dean jumped up. "He disappeared three months ago. I've been looking for him since." He allowed himself to get excited. "I think that dream you had a few months ago was about when he disappeared. Cecilia," he said, grabbing her hands, "you're not too late. You're early."

"He's gone," Cecilia said slowly. "I thought I was dreaming about whatever was going to happen to him. I'm not."

Dean felt his excitement fade. "You…you're dreaming about his…"

"His death," Cecilia finished for him. Her face drained of colour.

Dean suddenly had to sit down again. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to concentrate. "He's still alive," he said quietly.

He glanced over at Jo and Ellen, who were staring at two of them, eyes wide in confusion as to what had happened. Dean remembered that they had never met Cecilia. They weren't familiar with her creepy premonitions.

He stood up yet again. "Sorry," he apologized. "Um…Jo, Ellen – this Cecilia Black. We met last year. She's a psychic."

Ellen nodded and held out her hand, looking at if she had no idea as to what to say.

Jo narrowed her eyes. "_Christo_," she said coolly.

Cecilia glanced at her. "Bless you," she replied, looking slightly confused.

Dean could have kicked Jo, then realized he should have been kicking himself. He'd made the point she was trying to make clear when she turned up in Palo Alto the first time: trust no one. Anyone could be his enemy. Anyone could be possessed.

He blinked and looked at Cecilia, who was now scrutinizing him. She had stopped crying, though the tears were still on her face.

"You don't trust me," Cecilia said softly. She blinked a few times.

"Well, wouldn't _you_ find it a little suspicious?" Jo asked, her eyes still narrowed. "You waltz in here and put on a big show and you've been having dreams about Sam – "

"Jo." Dean cut her off. "Stop." He turned back to Cecilia. "It's just difficult, that's all. In this situation…it's hard to trust anybody."

She nodded. Her face was pale.

"Are you alone?" Ellen asked. Her voice was odd, Dean noticed – weary, tired. He realized that the whole business with Sam's disappearance must have taken its toll on her. Having chosen Dean and Sam's "side" in the war, she was obligated to make the right choices in order to win. Trust no one. Every person was a potential enemy. Running the Roadhouse, he realized, had probably made it ten times harder for her.

Cecilia was nodding. "Yeah," she said quietly. "My…friend wanted to come, but…" Dean looked at her, and she shifted uncomfortably. "I hate getting them all involved."

Dean remembered the lovesick look on Sam's face when they drove away after their work in Cecilia's town was done. He remembered the tears in her eyes as she stood in front of her apartment building, watching them leave. He remembered the perfect understanding between the two of them. Two people with different abilities – to predict the future – and it was something they shared. Something the two brothers could never have together…

Dean tried to meet Cecilia's eye, but she looked away. Had she moved on? Let his little brother fade into the walls of her memory?

For a moment he could see right into her, catching her eye as she looked back for a split second before her gaze shifted again. He could see right through. He saw pain reflected in her deep, dark eyes. Pain. Raw and real. No demon could recreate such emotion for the sake of trickery, no matter how evil.

* * *

So, what do you think? Cecilia - thumbs up or thumbs down? Let me know:) 


	13. Chapter 13

Anyway, so here is Chapter 13. Cecilia has a dream. Oh, the excitement. A warning to people who like Jo: she's not really the nicest person in this chapter. Sorry. :(**

* * *

**

**Chapter 13**

Jo was watching Dean. It had become a habit of hers lately. Partly, she knew, because she couldn't shake the crush she had on him for the life of her. But it was also because she couldn't believe how much he had changed. The transformation he'd gone through since his brother disappeared was scary. He was a ghost of the person he'd been – gone were the smart remarks and mischievous glint in his eye. He now just looked out with pain and sadness. He was consumed with finding Sam, but he'd gotten careless. That creepy girl who's turned up yesterday, claiming to be psychic. He hadn't questioned her at all – just trusted her right away. When she could very well have been possessed – sent by the Demon – a danger to them all.

Right now he was on the computer, frowning as usual. He never smiled anymore. Not even for a brief moment here or there. It never left his mind that his little brother was missing. He didn't confide in Jo, but that was easier to read than a children's book.

As she watched his eyes scan whatever he was reading on the laptop's screen, she wondered whether or not she should go over to him. Be friendly. Ask what he was doing.

It wouldn't help any. He never let her in. He just locked her out so she couldn't see what was going on in his head. Or his heart. Just concentrated on finding Sam.

Suddenly, a piercing scream ripped through the air.

"Help me! Oh, God, please help me!"

Jo was right on Dean's heels as they raced to the room where Cecilia was sleeping. The screaming was coming from there. Dean rushed in, almost breaking the doorknob as he flew inside.

Jo felt her jaw drop in shock. The little freak had fallen off the goddamn bed.

Dean was at her side in a moment. "Cecilia," he said, "what's wrong?" His voice was tight. "Did you have another dream?"

She nodded. She was crying, she noted – sobbing, in fact. Her breathing was heavy and irregular.

"Shh." Dean tried to comfort her. It was, Jo thought bitterly, the most emotion she'd seen him show in…she didn't know how long. "It's okay. Calm down." Her breathing slowed and started to regulate. "What did you see?"

Cecilia shuddered and didn't answer. Jo had to struggle to keep a smirk off her face as irritation flashed through Dean's eyes.

But, when he spoke, his voice was soft and soothing. "Cecilia. Please. You're the only one who can help me find Sam."

_Excuse me?_ Jo wanted to yell. _And what are _we, _exactly?_ Who had been with Dean when he found out about Sam? Whose place was he staying at now? Who had gone to get him while he was in Palo Alto? Who were risking their lives everyday to protect him?

But she didn't say anything. She just watched silently as Cecilia began to speak.

"It wasn't much different than they have been." She wiped her eyes and seemed to gulp in a mouthful of air. "It was dark. And cold." She shivered. "It was really cold."

Dean touched her right hand. His eyes widened. "You're freezing."

She yanked her hand away and held it in front of her at the wrist. "I saw it again. His hand." Her eyes refilled with tears. "It wasn't bleeding this time," she whispered, "but there was something wrong. It was…like, hot. I mean, like, heat seemed to be coming from it."

A whole new level of hopelessness opened up in Dean's eyes. "Oh, no."

Jo knew what that meant. An open wound hot to the touch…meant infection. Illness.

"I think he's sick," Cecilia whispered, tears pouring down her face. "I think it's bad."

Dean stood up. Jo felt an odd sensation inside her as she watched him, a strange sort of horror when she saw tears in his eyes.

He looked at Cecilia. "Do you know where he is?"

She shook her head. "I get little clues," she said. "A little glimpse here, another one there – " She bit her lip. "It can never just come right out and say it."

"What do you know?" Dean pressed. "There has to be something. Anything."

She frowned, thinking hard. "I keep seeing that school," she said, "the one he went to."

"He was back at school when he disappeared."

She nodded. "Sometimes it to goes so fast – it's like I see this house or something – but I can never tell. It goes _too_ fast to see it clearly. And it's always dark." She shivered again. "And cold."

He placed his fingers on her hand again. "You're still freezing." She didn't pull away this time.

"I'm fine," she said quietly.

Jo backed out of the room. Neither of them noticed.

Part of her hated that girl. She _hated _her. But another part had started to trust her. Somewhere. Somehow.

A little bit.

* * *

Thanks for your reviews! I appreciate them. I'll update soon! 


	14. Chapter 14

Unfortunately for anyone who doesn't like Cecilia's character, her part in this story isn't over yet. It continues right to the end. Sorry!

Anyway, this chapter is from her POV. Basically, you'll be thinking, "What the hell?" I didn't do any research for this; I made it up. If anyone has any knowledge of witchcraft, or anything, I apologize.**

* * *

**

**Chapter 14 **

_"O moon and stars, beacons of light,_

_Take this gift I offer thee tonight."_

"Guide me," Cecilia continued softly, in prose. "Give my premonitions clarity. Again, another person's life hangs in the balance." She breathed in shakily. "And, again, his fate is in my hands.

"Guide me down the right path. Let me see the true meaning of my dreams." Tears filled her eyes. "Let me find Sam Winchester."

She reached for her spell jar and slowly and methodically unscrewed the lid. She dipped in a finger and stared at it for a moment, watching the liquid drip off. Then she started to dig, with her fingers, a small hole in the ground. When it was big enough, she poured the entirety of her spell into the hole.

"Bless this gift," she whispered.

Cecilia leaned back against the tree trunk and let the tears fall. She hated this. She hated being responsible for whether someone lived or died. She hated that her stupid premonitions were always cryptic and unclear. Nothing ever made any sense right away.

It could never just be easy, could it?

She told herself she should get up and go back to the Roadhouse. The owner, Ellen, and her daughter were already suspicious of her enough as it was, without her disappearing until the small hours of the morning. But she didn't. she just sat there, miserably, wishing she was someone else.

She gulped. She had been someone else, once. Someone carefree and happy. Her high school years had been beautiful. Her dreams had started the year after she graduated. She couldn't help but smile tearfully as she thought of her days in school. Nothing to worry about but homework or her friends or whether or not she would pass trigonometry.

Not anymore.

She stared up at the sky, her thought wrought with memories. She thought back to when she first met the Winchester brothers. Her dreams had suddenly foretold the death of a stranger – who later proved to be Dean. She shuddered, remembering the horrific nightmares. She'd met them a few days after the dreams started. It began as a race to save Dean's life. Oh, how quickly that had changed.

Thoughts of Sam slid into her thoughts, things she both wished she could forget and yet wanted to remember for the rest of her life. Tears welled up in her eyes. She hated him. She loved him. She hated the raw, aching, gaping holes his memory left in her heart. And yet, if that feeling was the closest she could get to him, then she never wanted it to go away.

She sat up straight and bowed her head as her hands folded themselves in her lap. She had never been religious. But if Sam was alive, as her dreams seemed to be saying, then there had to be some kind of higher power. There just had to be.

_Let him live_, she prayed. _Let him survive. Let us find him before time runs out._ Another tear squeezed itself out of her eye. _Please, Sam, hang in there. You have to. You just have to. We're coming.__

* * *

_

Hope you enjoyed it! I know, it was weird. Sorry. Anyway, Chapter 15 is Jo's POV again, but I think it's the last or one of the last of those. Dean's in it, though, so YAY:) 


	15. Chapter 15

Two apologies to make: 1) Sorry it took so long to update. I have been extremely busy, and it's been hard to find time. But Chapter 15 is here now, so...2) Sorry, it's Jo/Dean/Cecilia/etc yet again. But I promise! Chapter 16 will be a welcome break from them. Unless you like those chapters. :)

So...here it is:)**

* * *

**

**Chapter 15**

Jo's fingers were shaking. Her cell phone slipped from her hands as she tried to call Dean's cell. It fell onto the seat and slid onto the floor of her car.

She swore and returned her attention to the road. If she drove fast enough, she could get back to the Roadhouse and warn Dean before that freak got back. She felt sick, hardly able to believe what she had just seen. And yet, she had expected it.

That girl. Jo had known it. She'd known that that girl – Cecilia – that there was something weird about her.

This should be evidence enough for Dean. Why else would she be sneaking off in the middle of the night and doing weird rituals away from the Roadhouse if she wasn't in contact with something supernatural? Jo was furious. She kept seeing her pour that jar into the ground. What the hell was that about?

She accelerated, knowing she had to get to Dean as fast as possible. She could reach down to grab her phone, but she figured taking her attention from the road and smashing the car into something would help her situation any.

With a start, she realized she was crying. There were tears in her eyes. She didn't even know why. She was Jo Harvelle. She was tough. She didn't get emotional over things. Hell – hadn't she faced the angry spirit of H. H. Holmes? Hadn't she been used as freaking _bait_? And yet she'd done it all, faced it all. Without tears.

But, now…

Jo wiped her eyes and forced herself to calm down. Now was not the time for tears. There was no reason for it. She had proof that there was something odd about Cecilia Black. She glanced down at her cell phone on the floor. Now she had _concrete_ evidence. Footage of Psychic Girl doing her freakish ritual out in the middle of nowhere.

She pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. Forcing any remaining tears into the netherworld, she grabbed her phone and got out of the car. This was it. now she had to tell Dean. The truth about the girl he thought could save his brother.

"Joanna Beth Harvelle, where the _hell_ have you been?"

Jo looked at her mother. "Where's Dean?" she asked quietly.

Ellen glared at her. "In his room," she said, and for a moment it seemed as though a look of sadness crossed her face. "I didn't want to tell him you were gone." Her voice had gone quiet.

Before Ellen could get angry again, Jo said, "I suppose you didn't notice that Cecilia was gone, did you?"

Ellen clenched her jaw. "Were you with her?"

Jo shook her head. "No." For some reason, she felt angry.

She headed towards Dean's room, hoping he wasn't asleep. She glanced at the clock. It read 1:47 a.m.

"Jo, where the _hell_ did you go?" Ellen was following behind her.

Jo stopped in the doorway, not knowing how to approach Dean. He was sprawled on his bed, wide awake, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Jo blinked back the tears that were launching a second attack. "Dean."

He didn't stir or even glance at her. "Where did you go?"

She took a deep breath, still at a loss of what to say. She could only hope that no one would flip out on her for following Cecilia. "I, uh…"

"Spit it out, Jo," Ellen snapped. "I'm sure we'd all like to know where you went."

_Shut up, Mom!_ she thought irritably. "It's _her_, Dean. Cecilia. You can't trust her."

He finally moved, sitting up to look at her. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes clearly said that she had his attention.

She moved into his room and sat down on his bed. "I noticed her leaving in the middle of the night, and I, well, followed her."

Jo heard Ellen sigh. "Oh, God, Jo," her mother whispered.

Dean's gaze still seemed to be blank. "Go on."

"She went out into the middle of nowhere, a few miles away. Like, this really wooded area. And…" She breathed deep yet again, and opened her cell phone, going to video footage she'd taken only half an hour before. "She was doing some weird ritual out there. I _saw_ her, Dean." She gulped. "And I took video."

Dean took the phone from her hand, a look of unmasked fear on his face. Jo started to hate herself. Cecilia really had been his final hope.

Dean watched silently as the phone gave concrete proof of Cecilia Black's midnight ritual. He looked truly heartbroken.

"Dean," she whispered. He shook his head. For a moment, she was terrified that he would deny what was right in front of him. Then he stood up and handed her phone back with a trembling hand.

He passed a hand over his face, closing his eyes as he thought. Then, he said, "I have to confront her." He took a shuddering breath. "Then I have to leave."

"What? Dean, no." Jo jumped up. "You can't do that."

"Jo." His voice cut in, firm. "I have to. If Cecilia is possessed, then that means the Demon's closer than we thought it was. I have to go. I think I've put you in enough danger."

"It doesn't make a difference!" Jo cried, her voice rising. "The thing knows we've helped you – it doesn't matter whether or not you're here. We're enemies anyway."

Dean looked away. "That was never my intention."

Ellen came forward and touched his arm. "We know that." She paused. "Dean, you'll never find Sam alone."

Jo looked at her, thanking God that her mother was, for once, in agreement with her.

He turned his head even further, and Jo knew that he was hiding tears. "I'm just as far away from finding him as I was the day he disappeared." He clenched his jaw. "Again."

Jo couldn't resist the urge to reach out and grab his hand. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't answer her, didn't look at her. _I'm so sorry._ Her words echoed in her head. _I'm so sorry._

Then, she felt him squeeze her hand, and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. How many times could one man be broken?

Dean, Ellen, and Jo all tensed at the sound of a door opening as someone entered the Roadhouse. Dean released Jo's hand and grabbed his gun.

"Come on," he said quietly, and went to face Cecilia.

* * *

So...there it is. I hope no one hated it! Have a little faith...because Chapter 16 brings us back to Sam:) Hopefully I'll get it up soon. :) 


	16. Chapter 16

So sorry it has taken so long to update. I have had a crazy week. Anyway, Chapter 16 is here, and YAY! it's from Sam's point of view. Enjoy the everlasting angst...**

* * *

**

**Chapter 16 **

Sam opened his eyes. It was dark. _Where am I?_ he thought. When no answer came, panic started to set it. _Where am I?_ The question repeated itself.

The memories flashed before his mind's eye and he relaxed slightly, recalling the events that had led up to him becoming a prisoner of the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

He raised his head weakly to look at the tally charts in the wall, carved by him with the knife that was his only worldly possession anymore, other than the clothes he wore. He shivered and looked down at the rags that used to be a T-shirt that he now used to bandage his right hand. He sighed and laid back down.

Two months. Two hellish months in this dark, disgusting, filthy room, of wearing the same clothes, of helplessly watching the wound on his hand grow more and more infected…Two months of waiting to die.

_You're going to die here, Sam Winchester._

Two months of defying that statement, of struggling with every fibre of strength in his body to stay alive, of praying that somehow his big brother would miraculously come to his rescue.

_You're going to die here, Sam Winchester._

Two months of false hope.

His hand was burning again. He sat up to examine it and winced when he touched it. Even in the dark, he could see that it was red, and swollen – as it had been since he'd cut it open. He clenched his left hand. The wound was infected. He knew that. He'd known it since he realized the damn thing wasn't healing.

He was shivering again – this time nearly uncontrollably. He was sick. He leaned back against the wall and drew his knees to his chest, hoping to stay warm that way. _Dean_, he thought, starting a conversation with his absent brother as he'd been doing for God knew how long now, _please. Please come find me. I don't think I can do this anymore._

The door swung open and Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. For one tiny fraction of a moment, hope lit up inside him as he wondered if it was Dean. But the yellow eyes staring at him proved him to be oh, so wrong…and oh, so stupid.

"Good morning, Sam," the Demon said pleasantly. "Lovely day to be alive, isn't it?" Malice winked at him from those fiery yellow depths.

Sam glanced away and didn't answer as helplessness took over him. Lovely day to be alive, indeed. Another day in hell.

"How long has it been now?" asked the Demon. It gaze flicked over to Sam's tally chart and a cruel smile started to play at the corners of its mouth. "Two months." Its stare went back to Sam. "Two months."

Sam still didn't respond and tried not to make eye contact.

If he ignored it, it would go away.

If he ignored it, it would go away.

If he ignored it, it would go away.

If he ignored it –

"He's not coming, you know." The Demon was whispering, but Sam could hear every word. "He's not coming to rescue you." Sam fought to keep emotion off his face. "Give it up, Sammy."

Sam swallowed hard and turned his head to look the Demon in the eye, feeling anger start to burn inside him. "Don't call me Sammy."

It was grinning now. "Oh…that's right…_Dean_ is the only one who's allowed to call you that…"

Sam shut his eyes. "Don't you dare talk about him."

"Who? Dean?"

"_Stop!_"

He was breathing heavily – deep, shaking breaths that seemed to zap all his energy. The Demon was smirking. Sam felt the room spin even as he tried to move.

_What has happened to me?_

His eyes filled with tears that he had no energy to fight back. _Dean…_

"Dean isn't coming," said the Demon, as if it were reading Sam's mind. "I don't understand the faith you have in him. Why do you think he's going to rescue you?

"Give up, Sam." The Demon's voice dropped to a whisper again. "Dean has. Why don't you?"

_Dean has. Why don't you? _

The words echoed in his mind. _Dean has._ Was it true? Had Dean given up? Had he stopped searching for him? Had Sam's only hope gone and betrayed him?

A strong voice at the back of his mind told him that Dean would never rest until he knew what had happened to his younger brother. But no defiant words came to him and he just sat there, anger gone, filled with weak and pitiful hopelessness once again. He felt another tear slide down his face and wondered, once again, what had happened to him.

Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as the Demon looked around the room. "I can make all this go away, Sammy," it said. "You could live once again."

Somewhere, a light went on in Sam's mind. _He's trying to recruit me._ His gaze slid up to meet the Demon's yellow eyes.

"Get away from me," he said, unconsciously clenching his left fist with what little strength he had left.

There was no emotion betrayed in the Demon's face. No anger, no disappointment, no surprise. In fact, it almost seemed to be smiling slightly. It just nodded its head and went to the door. It paused, however, before opening it and leaving.

"Your brother isn't coming, Sam." And it left, the door slamming with a resounding _clang_. Sam's head spun at the noise and he slowly slid down until he was almost lying on the ground, drowning in his own misery.

* * *

So that was Chapter 16. Fun, eh? Coming up...Dean confronts Cecilia. Is she possessed? Or is there another explanation? Read next time to find the answer... 


	17. Chapter 17

So here is Chapter 17...back to Dean, Cecilia, and the others. Who will Dean believe? Is Cecilia really possessed...or was it just one big misunderstanding? Prepare for a bit of random Sam/Cecilia backstory...**

* * *

**

**Chapter 17**

"Dean, what are you doing?" Cecilia's eyes were large and fearful. They were fixed on the gun Dean had pointed at her.

"Sit down." Dean pointed at the chair she was nearest to. "Now." She sat, realizing that it was a command and not a request.

She was shaking, and somewhere behind Dean's tunnelvisioned determination to get to the bottom of the mystery of Cecilia Black, he felt bad for her. Even if she was possessed by a demon, there was a girl somewhere in there. And she would be scared as hell.

Jo and Ellen were not far away, looking serious. He saw something like triumph dancing in Jo's eyes. _Oh, you've got to be kidding me._ Did Jo think that he and Cecilia…and looked for an excuse to…Obviously she had never been told about Sam and Cecilia's history.

But what about the video Jo had on her phone?

"Where were you?" he asked harshly, dismissing his thoughts. "Where did you go?"

She stared at him, her chest heaving up and down, up and down. "I…I couldn't sleep. I went out."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away. "Why do you care?" she asked. "You think I did something, don't you? You think I betrayed you or something."

Dean went over to Jo and she handed him her cell phone. The triumphant look in her eyes seemed to have faded a bit.

Dean returned to Cecilia, who hadn't moved. She was still fighting back tears.

"I know you were you in the woods," he told her, glaring straight at her. "_What were you doing out there?_"

She moved her eyes away from his again. "Please stop," she whispered. "I swear, I would never – "

"Swearing doesn't make much of a difference, Cecilia. Give me a straight answer, or I'll have to assume that you're…" He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Working for the Demon," Ellen finished for him quietly from Jo's side. "Or at least possessed by one."

Cecilia looked at Dean, her eyes wide, a look of fear on her face. "Dean..."

"What were you doing, Cecilia?"

Cecilia bit her lip and forced herself not to cry, not to look at the gun in Dean's hand, but to look him in the eye and tell the truth. So, Sam had never told Dean. He'd promised he wouldn't – he'd kept his promise – but now she wished he hadn't…

_"What is all this stuff?" Sam asked, looking around with a look of awe on his face. "What do you use it for?" _

_Cecilia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not quite sure how to answer. "I, uh…" _

_A smile glinted in his eyes as he looked back at her. "What?" _

_She fiddled with her hair some more and bit her lip. Should she take a chance? He'd been readily accepting when she'd told him she could predict the future – but what would he say about her spells? _

_She fought the urge to start biting her nails. "I know what this sounds like," she said quietly, "but it's for my spells." _

_A shadow seemed to flit across his face, but it was gone in an instant. "Spells?" _

_She took a deep breath. "Yeah. My spells. My, um, magic spells." _

_He stared at her for a minute. "Magic. Huh." Cecilia felt her heart sinking. "So you don't bring people back from the dead or anything, do you?" _

_She shook her head. "No," she said. She paused. "Do you think I'm crazy?" _

_"No." _

_She blinked. "Are you totally creeped out by me?" she asked. _

_"No." _

_She stared at him. "Say something." _

_"So, does that make you a witch?" _

_She blinked again, startled by his question. "Um. I guess so." She giggled nervously. "I've never thought of it that way before." _

Sam had believed her – and believed in her – immediately and without question. Could she trust his brother to do the same?

"Stop," she whispered, looking away from Dean and his gun. "I'll tell you, all right?" She shut her eyes and tried to take some deep, calming breaths. "I went out because I couldn't sleep." She opened her eyes to look at Dean. "I have to sleep. If I don't have another dream, I lose out on information we need." She chewed on her lip, fear burning inside of her like a searing fire. "So I went out to do a spell."

"A spell?" Jo and Ellen repeated the words together.

Cecilia nodded. "I'm a psychic," she explained, her voice trembling, "but I'm also into old folk magic. I use herbs and other ingredients to make spells. Tonight I made one to help me understand my dreams."

"And you expect us to believe that?" Jo's voice sounded angry.

Cecilia looked at her. "I know you probably thought I was performing some horrible ritual or something when you saw me." She decided it was not the time to demand why the other girl had been spying on her in the first place. "But I swear, I'm telling the truth."

"How can we tell?" Dean's voice had gone emotionless once again.

The words spilled out of Cecilia's mouth before she could even think. "I love Sam!" Her own voice sounded shrill and unstable in her ears. "I _love_ him! I let him walk out of my life and now, if he dies, it's my fault!" She buried her face in her hands, unable to control her emotions any longer. "I don't know what you thought I was doing, but I would never, ever betray you and Sam."

There was no reply from any of them. Cecilia didn't care whether they believed her or not. She almost wished Dean would shoot her. At least she'd know the next time she saw Sam, it would be forever.

She heard Dean walking towards her and couldn't bear to look up. It didn't matter to her, what he was going to do.

Then, she felt him gently pull her to her feet. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know you'd never betray us." His blank eyes cleared for a moment and within then she saw sorrow deeper than anything she'd ever seen in her life. Then he wrapped his arms around her in a hug, and they stood like that for a few moments, two friends sharing a heavy burden together. When they pulled apart, the only emotion in his eyes was a glint of determination in a sea of vacancy. "We're going to find Sam," he said.

Cecilia nodded. "I know we are.

Jo and Ellen stepped aside as Dean started to walk Cecilia to her sleeping quarters. "Do you think you'll be able to fall asleep?" he asked her. She gave him a weak smile.

"I will at some point," she replied.

Dean left her in her room and shut the door, then went back to Ellen and Jo. He didn't know what to do with himself. When he got there, Jo had an apologetic look on her face.

"I – I'm so sorry," she faltered. "I – "

"It's all right," Dean said wearily. "We all would've thought the same thing." He didn't have the energy to be angry with Jo.

Ellen hesitated, then put her hand on his shoulder. "Everything's gonna be fine, Dean," she said softly. Dean nodded and started to head back to his room.

No soon had he lain down on his bed and just begun his nightly routine of staring at the ceiling and talking to Sam in his head when something jolted him out of his bed. It was the sound of Cecilia screaming.

* * *

So, there it is. :) Next chapter, Cecilia gets the final clue as to Sam's whereabouts...she makes one phone call back home...and they set off to rescue Sam. 


	18. Chapter 18

So, this is Chapter 18. The search for Sam really kicks into action, and Cecilia realizes how dire the situation really is and makes one phone call. Hope you like it!

Note: If you've seen "All Hell Breaks Loose, Part One," then you'll know that this is technically an alternate universe fanfic now, because this takes place in the FUTURE, and they're still at the ROADHOUSE...well, you know what I'm referring to. (I'm just being safe - just in case someone hasn't seen it...)**

* * *

**

**Chapter 18**

Dean gripped the piece of paper with shaking hands. "You're sure this is it?" he asked Cecilia. Her dark eyes scanned the drawing he held. She nodded.

"You don't know how many pencils – and pieces of paper – I went through to get that," she said, not meeting his eyes but staring at her drawing with a scared look in her eyes.

She took a deep, shaking breath, and Dean saw that she was fighting against the storm of emotions that was obviously overwhelming her. "I just keep thinking that it all depends on me," she said, her voice cracking. "I mean, if I misunderstood something in my dreams, or if I drew that wrong – "

"You didn't," Dean told her. "You can't have."

"No, you don't understand," Cecilia said. "I've done it before. I – " She stopped.

Dean had a vague memory of a private conversation between Sam and Cecilia, a long time ago. She'd been insisting something to him, the pitch of her voice rising and falling, showing she was obviously nervous. He'd been quite out of it at the time, and he didn't know much, but he remembered Sam's voice, and silence from Cecilia. Then a slow, soft, heartbroken murmur from her.

Dean looked at her now and felt his pulse quicken. "Someone died, didn't they?" he asked quietly.

She turned away. "Yeah." Dean felt a wave of pity wash over him. "Someone I cared about. A lot." She turned back to him, determination glinting behind the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I don't want to go through that again. I _won't_ go through it again." She took a moment to breathe. "I can't."

"You're not going to," Dean assured her. "Not with Sam. We're going to find him."

She nodded. "I know."

Cecilia couldn't shake the uneasiness her last dream had left her with. She'd seen it, finally seen that dilapidated old house, out in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere in California. That's where he was. She knew it. He was there, still alive.

A sick, strength-sucking feeling of fear crawled into her stomach as she, for, it seemed, the twelve thousandth time, though of the very end of her nightmare. She'd felt him, felt that he was alive, but then it was gone – nothing but a terrifying nothingness. Her sixth sense, when she woke up, told her that he was still alive – but that if they didn't hurry, it wouldn't be long before he died.

_If only we had more time!_

But there _wasn't_ any more time. It was now or never. Do or die. However she put it in her mind, it wounded ominous.

She watched Dean, who was back in the Hunter's mode she seen him in last year. His head bent down, going through his arsenal with an air of unstoppable determination. He was almost scary, she thought. She wouldn't want to face him in any sort of battle. And yet here she was, preparing to walk with him into one.

"I'm scared," she finally burst out, unable to contain herself any longer.

He looked up at her. "I know." Then, "Me too." His eyes met hers and she saw underneath the façade of courageousness where his real feelings hid. Dean was just as scared as she was.

"Hey, Cecilia?" He looked away. "You don't know how sorry I am that you got dragged into this."

Cecilia shook her head. "I know you are," she said, "but you shouldn't feel that way. If it hadn't been you two, it would've been somebody else. That's my ability, remember?" She smiled sadly at him.

He smiled back, but it was cheerless too. "I know." He paused. "You don't have to come. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "I can't turn back now, Dean." She hesitated, then added, "You know that, right?"

A genuine smile came onto his face and he returns to his work. Cecilia stood up, suddenly wanting to be alone and knowing that he probably did, too. "Bye."

Dean didn't look up. "Where are you going?"

She wished she had an answer. "I need to think," she said softly.

He nodded and didn't press any further. "It's going to be okay," he told her quietly.

Cecilia didn't reply, simply walked away morosely. _God, I hope so_, she thought.

Cecilia held her cell phone and stared at, it knowing what she wanted to do but unsure of how to do it. Gulping, she slowly punched in Cassie's phone number. At their apartment. But it didn't feel like hers anymore.

"Hello?" Cecilia felt her stomach jump as the familiar voice answered the phone.

"Hey, Cassie," Cecilia said softly. "It's me."

"Cecilia?" Cassie's high voice rose to a screechy pitch. "Oh my God. Where the hell have you been? How could you just take off like that? Where are you? Are you all right? What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you do that to me? Everyone's been so worried. Your mom came down – Jesus fucking Christ, I can't believe you. You – "

"Cassie."

Cecilia's friend stopped in mid-rant. "Cecilia. Are – are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Where are you? Do you need me to pick you up somewhere? Where are you?"

"No. It doesn't matter."

Cassie's voice became even more shrill with worry. "Why are you saying that? Where are you? What did you do?"

"My dreams, Cassie. I – " Cecilia's voice cracked. "I have to save him, I just have to. I'm not going to let him die."

"You – It – What? Who? When did you figure out who you were dreaming about?"

"I just wanted to thank you," Cecilia whispered. She cleared her throat. "You've always been there for me. Thanks for that."

"Cecilia, stop talking like you're about to die. Where are you?" She drew in a sharp intake of breath. "What are you going to do?"

Cecilia paused. "I'm going to save him."

"_Who?_"

"I have to go," Cecilia said quietly. "Bye, Cassie."

"Cecilia! Don't hang up! Where – " Cecilia pressed the _End_ button on her phone. She put her head in her hands and fought the urge to throw herself on the ground and sob.

"Cecilia?" She looked up as Dean appeared, the fear in his eyes once again hidden behind a mask. "You ready to go?"

She nodded. "Yeah." She pocketed her phone. "Let's go."

_What are you going to do?_

_I'm going to save him. _

_I'm going to save Sam Winchester,_ Cecilia thought. No one was going to die. Especially not Sam.

Cecilia followed Dean out to his Impala in the Roadhouse parking lot. _Here we go_, she thought. The door squeaked as she got in the passenger seat. _Now or never.__

* * *

_

So, that was Chapter 18. :) Anyway, Chapter 19 is back to Sam and things are not looking good. 


	19. Chapter 19

This is Chapter 19. It is long. And depressing. And all about Sam. Did I mention it was really depressing? Well, it is.

lol. Here it is!**

* * *

**

Chapter 19

Sam couldn't remember the time last he'd seen light. Real light. Some always flooded in whenever anyone entered the room, but it always hurt his eyes, so he'd taken to shutting them whenever he heard someone opening the door.

He could barely keep his eyes open. He closed them, trying to shut out everything. The cold. He was always so cold. And yet sometimes he awoke from a troubled sleep even colder from sweat-soaked clothing. Somewhere in his mind, he felt sad and miserable fear start pulsing. _Oh, God. Help me. Please help me. Please, please help me._

He didn't know why he continued to ask God for help. Prayer hadn't been of any help to him at all. The desperate please had become a part of his mind, a part of each and every thought. They echoed endlessly in each dream he had whenever he slept. They had ceased to have any real meaning to him at all, except to remind him of when he still had hope.

Sam started to play the game he played each and every day. At least, he thought he did. He might skip every now and then. Or do it twice in one day. He might have already played that day, come to think of it. He didn't remember. God, his memory was bad lately. It seemed to get worse by the day. Recent memories were fuzzy and eventually faded. He found himself dwelling on things he thought he had completely forgotten about.

He made a mental list of everything he missed about life. Real life. _This_ wasn't life. He wasn't living. He'd ceased to do that a long time ago.

_Sunlight_, he thought. _Fresh air. Clean water. Hot water. Sleeping a bed._

The items on the list usually switched around a bit, depending on how he was feeling. But number one was always the same. The only one that never changed.

_Dean._

He started another round of his _other_ daily mind game. He fuzzily tried to recall what he and Dean had talked about during their last phone conversation. He wondered how Dean had really felt about Sam returning to college. Did he hate him for it? Did he think that Sam hated him? _I didn't,_ Sam thought miserably. _I don't._

He wanted to stop, to end the torture session he put himself through everyday, but he couldn't. Dean, the one thing that had been constant through his entire life. Thoughts of him couldn't just be swatted away like an annoying bug. They were always there, painful or not.

_Dean. Why didn't you come? Why are you leaving me here to die in this hell hole?_

His conscience knew the accusations weren't fair. How could Dean possibly know where he was? Sam didn't know himself where he was. But when the realization crashed down on him, every day, that he really was going to die there, Dean was an easy target. How many other times had his big brother saved him before? Why couldn't he now?

_Stop it!_ he ordered himself. _Stop it!_ The words screamed themselves within his mind, and he almost put his hands over his ears. _Oh, God. Please help me. _

_I'm so sorry, Dean._

* * *

"Wake up, Sam." 

Sam opened his eyes. Someone was talking to him. He blinked against the darkness as it threatened to drag him back into unconsciousness. It was a struggle.

"Wake up, Sam." Hands shook him roughly, forcing him awake.

"What…?" He didn't understand. He couldn't remember the last time he came in contact with another human body. But there it was – someone was trying to pull him to his feet.

"Can you stand?" A tall, black man with yellow eyes stood in the doorway of his "cell." Sam didn't answer, simply stared at him, trying to catch his breath as two of its demon-possessed cronies forced him to stand up.

"Sam," the Demon said sharply, a dangerous edge to its voice, "can you stand?"

"Do I have much choice?" Sam's legs were shaking, but he was determined not to show weakness in front of the one thing he knew would take pleasure in it.

A little smirk flitted across the Demon's face, and Sam grunted in pain as it followers wrenched his hands behind his back and tied them together. He couldn't hold back a wince as pain shot through his right arm as something grazed his palm.

"What do you want?" he asked angrily, fighting dizziness. He weakly jerked his arms in an attempt to get free, but it was useless.

The two men holding him shoved him forward, and Sam found himself face to face with his enemy. His legs threatened to give out beneath him as weakness and dizziness overwhelmed him again. The Demon was still smirking.

"You just won't give up, will you?" it asked, touching Sam's face with the back of its hand. Sam jerked his head backwards and it laughed aloud. "I have to say, Sam, I never actually expected you to stick it out this long." Its eyes followed Sam's right arm and rested on where his hand disappeared behind him. "That isn't getting any better, is it?" Sam stiffened and didn't answer.

The Demon nodded at its henchmen and they let go of Sam and disappeared. The Demon turned and started to walk away. "Come with me, Sam."

Sam didn't move. "What are you doing?" he asked warily. This didn't make any sense. He took a deep breath. "What are you going to do to me?"

The Demon stopped, but it didn't turn around. "Sam. I told you to come with me. Do not make me tell you again."

Sam shook his head. "I don't owe you anything," he said angrily, his voice shaking. "You've taken everything from me. You lock me up for months, then open the door one day and just expect me to follow you, no questions asked?" Sam could feel his energy draining as he spoke. "I don't think so." He fruitlessly tried to free his hands again, knowing that any minute now he'd have to grab onto something for support, or else he would fall over.

This time it turned its yellow eyes back to Sam. "I just want to talk to you, Sammy," it said. Sam's gaze hardened. He swallowed hard.

"Don't call me that."

"Follow me."

Sam hesitated, then went after the Demon as it started to walk again. Something in his mind screamed at him not to go, that no good could come of it, but he kept going. _You're making a mistake!_ the rational, or maybe delirious, part of it mind warned him as they reached a set of stairs, and suddenly he wished he hadn't agreed to go. No way could he mount those.

The Demon went up the stairs slowly and paused at the top, turning slightly to watch Sam stumbled up the stairs himself not with suspicion, but with sadistic amusement. "Planning a grand escape?" it asked him. It laughed – it thought it was funny – the idea of Sam trying to get away when he barely move without getting dizzy.

Right on cue, as if the Demon had planned it, Sam felt the world spin as he reached the top, too, and he couldn't support himself anymore. His legs collapsed like folding chairs beneath him.

The Demon, who was still standing there, grabbed his arm. Sam looked up at the creature he'd wanted to kill for so long, that had wanted to kill him for so long, that had just caught him as he fell. "What – what are you doing?" he faltered, realizing he couldn't hide what bad shape he was really in. The Demon yanked him upright and pulled him along until they reached a chair a few feet away. He pushed Sam into it.

"Look at you, Sam Winchester," it said to Sam, staring down at him without pity. "You're pathetic."

Sam wanted to fight back, desperately, to at least say something that would contradict its last statement. But – nothing. Days when he would have had the strength and the courage to do something about his dire situation were nothing more then a memory.

His hair fell into his eyes and he stayed still, not bothering to shake it out of the way so he could see. There was nothing to see, anyway. Nothing but his prison and the demon that was keeping him prisoner.

A hand pushed his hair out of his eyes and pointed out a window. Sam looked wearily out a window. He saw a blue sky dotted with clouds here and there. He couldn't see it, but somewhere, the sun was shining. The Demon stared at him.

"Remember that, Sam?" it asked in a soft, dangerous voice. "Remember sunlight? Fresh air? What about rain?" It lowered its voice to a whisper. "Sam. It doesn't need to be like this. I can give you your life back."

Sam glared at it. "Doing your dirty deeds for you is not living."

"Would you rather die in there?" The Demon pulled Sam to his feet and half-dragged him over to the window. "Can you give it all up, Sam?"

A thousand retorts came to mind, but Sam's vision blurred and he sank to his knees, no longer able to stand. "I would rather die in there," he whispered.

The Demon seemed about to reply when someone ran into the room. Sam turned and saw the person's black eyes. He shuddered and stared at the floor.

"We spotted him," it told the Demon. "The older Winchester!"

Sam whipped his head around, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to throw him into unconsciousness. He struggled to breathe. _Dean!_

The Demon stiffened. "Where?"

"Not far. Just in the next town."

_He came. He's coming._ Fear and excitement mashed together inside of him. Dean was coming.

But the Demon knew.

Forewarned was forearmed.

_Dean._

"Get everyone out," the Demon ordered. "I think I want a nice surprise for Dean when he gets here."

Sam felt nausea rise up inside him. "What are you going to do?" he demanded weakly.

The Demon looked down at him. There was hatred in its eyes, any compassion it seemed to have had, gone. A thousand thoughts seemed to rise in his mind in a split second. _Dean's coming. The Demon knows. What will it do to him? How did Dean find out? What is he planning on doing?_ Then the Demon lashed out suddenly and his thoughts came to a sudden stop as he was knocked unconscious.

* * *

Hope you liked it! In Chapter 20...Dean formulates a plan. And snaps at Cecilia for crying all the time. ;) 


	20. Chapter 20

So here is Chapter 20. Thank you to everyone who replied, and has been replying! Anyway, in this one...Dean has a plan...hmmm...but what is the plan? Does Cecilia like it? Does anyone other than him even know it? Will these questions even be answered at all? Read on to find out!**

* * *

**

**Chapter 20**

Dean was on edge. He sat on the hard motel bed, tense and unmoving. He glanced over at Cecilia, lying asleep on the other bed in the room. He swallowed. Part of him was praying that she would have another nightmare – provide him with another clue as to where Sam was. But she appeared to be sleeping soundly.

Another part of him was also hoping that she _wouldn't_ have one – and bring the whole building down with her screaming. "I can't control it," she'd told him, when he'd asked her about it. "It just – happens. I just wake up screaming."

Dean glanced at his cell phone, wondering how Ellen, Jo, and Ash were. They wee at a different motel, a weak attempt to throw off any demon spies who might spot him. And he had a feeling they would.

His stomach clenched with fear and nervousness. He had no idea what to expect. Cecilia's dreams were connecting her to Sam, not to the Demon itself. If it was prepared for any sort of attack…

There was a shrill gasp from Cecilia, and she abruptly sat up. He sighed with relief. At least no one would be breaking down the door, asking who was being murdered.

"Cecilia," he said, hopping off the bed to kneel beside her. "What did you dream about?"

She shook her head, and a single tear fell her from her eye. "Something is wrong, Dean. Something is seriously wrong. I just know it."

A sad and slightly guilty look came onto Dean's face. "The son of a bitch probably knows we're here."

Cecilia's eyes widened. "What?"

Dean licked his lips and turned away. "I'm pretty sure it knows we're here," he admitted. "Or if it doesn't, it will soon."

Cecilia gulped, and a hard, angry look came into her eyes. "You _knew_ that?" she whispered. "You – you knew that it would find out about…us?"

Dean looked back at her guiltily. "I didn't think we could hide from it." He paused. "I couldn't, anyway, or Ellen, Jo, and Ash. It probably knows about them, too. It should." He stopped again, this time to look hard at Cecilia. "I can't see why it would know about you, though. It might know that we know each other. I don't think it would know that you're the one who helped me find Sam." He swallowed hard. "Almost."

Cecilia moved away from him, trembling. "So, we could be walking right into a trap?" she asked.

"Cecilia…"

She shook her head. "I thought there was a _chance_, Dean. Even a small one. But if it knows about us all…" Her voice trailed off.

Dean reached out and caught her arm. "Hey. Hey. It's gonna be okay."

"_How?_" She pulled her hand away. "How the _hell_ is everything going to be okay?"

Dean looked her in the eye. "It just will, okay?"

She shook her head and pulled her arm away. "Dean…"

"Do you trust me?"

Cecilia nodded.

"Then believe me when I say, it will be okay."

She breathed deeply and nodded, but Dean saw in her eyes that she didn't believe him. He didn't know what else he could say.

From the bedside table, his phone beeped. He reached for it and saw that Jo had just sent him a text message.

"She wants to know when," he said aloud, scanning and reading it, for Cecilia's benefit even though she wasn't even looking at him. She didn't answer, and Dean started to text Jo back. "Tonight," he muttered, "when it gets dark. Meet in the centre of town."

"You think she'd be doing this if she wasn't in love with you?" Cecilia asked suddenly as he sent the message.

Dean looked up in surprise. "Who?"

"Jo."

Dean swallowed a sudden and unexpected feeling of anger. "Where did that come from?"

She shrugged. "I was just thinking, I guess."

"You don't trust her."

"She tried to turn you against me," she said petulant. He watched her swallow, too, and then she turned to look at him. He hadn't seen her cry in a few days – she'd been holding back whatever emotions she'd been feeling – but now her eyes were shimmering with tears again. "I came here to find you, tried so hard, trying so hard – " She buried her face in her hands. "And once I finally found you, _she_ made you think I was out to get you, and we all made it through that, and we're all walking right into our – "

"Cecilia."

"_What?_" She glared at him, and a tear fell from each eye. She started to shake, and after a moment, slowly slid off the bed. "I don't want to die. Dean, I don't want _you_ to die. Or Sam. Or anyone else."

He hid his irritation, and looked at her. "Cecilia. Please."

"Please what?"

He stared her down. "You are not going to die. _I _am not going to die. Sam is not going to die.

"We can do this. But you need to calm down. You can't save anyone crying all the time."

Her head whipped around to look at him in shock. Then, an expression of shame crossed her face. "I'm so sorry, Dean." She wiped her eyes and stood up straight. "It's just – hard."

"I know," Dean replied, his annoyance gone as quickly as it had come. "It's hard for me, too."

Cecilia wiped her eyes once more. "We can do this, can't we?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. We can. Now come on and I'll tell you the whole plan."

* * *

We grow ever closer to the end in Chapter 21. But...is that a good thing or a bad thing? 


	21. Chapter 21

Hey everyone, back again. I had a project to finish, so I couldn't update yesterday, but I'm here now:) In this chapter...well, the search for Sam continues. (Geez, will it EVER ends?)**

* * *

**

**Chapter 21**

Dean had faced a huge amount of terrors in his life.

From the moment he was awoken by his mother's scream, at four years old, that fateful night 24 years ago, his life had been filled with them, thing to be terrified of. But he'd faced them all, and conquered them, and walked away alive and triumphant, if not necessarily unscathed and unscarred.

But this was different.

Sure, he'd been on rescue-Sam missions before. He felt his stomach drop as he remembered that crazy redneck family in Minnesota. He shuddered as he recalled it. _I almost sent my own brother to his death._

_And this time, I let him walk right into it._

Dean snapped out of it, blinking away images of leaving Sam in that apartment. Now was not the time to get emotional and nostalgic. If he wanted to see his brother again…He shook his head, trying to clear it. _I'm coming for you, Sammy. This'll all be over tonight._

"So, are you gonna tell us the plan?" Jo appeared out of nowhere, her long blonde hair pulled out of her face and dressed in dark clothing. "I think it's time to stop being so mysterious."

Ellen and Ash were behind her, Ellen looking tense, Ash for once without a dazed, slightly out of it look in his eyes. Ellen was looking around sadly.

"I used to listen to William talk about his hunts all the time," she said softly. She seemed to be far away for a moment before she snapped back into the present. "I guess I just never imagined myself in the middle of one."

_She must be scared out of her wits_, Dean thought suddenly. His gaze wandered. _Just like Cecilia._

She, too, was looking tense, clenching her hands together and chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes were wide, and her gaze was focussed on one spot, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything. "Cecilia," he said gently.

"I'm fine."

He didn't believe her, but he didn't press the issue.

"Dean. Remember us? We don't know what we're doing." Jo was glaring at him. Oops.

"Okay," he said quietly, glancing around and not seeing anyone – or anything. "This is the only thing I could come up with, because we don't have much time or any means of killing it."

* * *

He was alone. 

Completely alone.

Every fibre in his body seemed to be tingling with fear and nervousness. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, even though he was moving slowly, taking cautious step after cautious step. He felt like he was in desperate need of oxygen, but he was barely breathing for fear of making noise. Irrational, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

So this was the place that had haunted Cecilia's nightmares, flitting in and out within a millisecond so she couldn't see it clearly. Until lately. He felt sick just thinking about it. Sam was in there.

It seemed harmless enough. An old abandoned farmhouse, painted dark and made to seem even darker by the blackness of the night. On the outside it appeared to be completely empty and falling apart. How misleading. It wasn't. Sam was in there somewhere. Sam was in there somewhere. Sam in there somewhere. The words pounded themselves into his brain.

Front or back? The front door might be a stupid tactical move – the most obvious one – but if time was an issue, as Cecilia said it was, then trying to find the back door might take too long.

_Too long could turn into too late._

He headed towards the front door, the sour taste of fear rank in his mouth. Just one step through the front door of that old abandoned house would decide the rest of his life. And his younger brother's.

As if he'd walked into a horror movie, the door creaked as he turned the doorknob and stepped into the house. Then again, he thought, he always seemed to be in a horror movie, didn't he?

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but – _nothing_ wasn't it. The room he'd walked into was empty. No one was there – no black smoke, no person with black eyes, no yellow eyes peering out of the darkness. He felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle. Something wasn't right.

_What am I thinking?_ he thought suddenly. He was walking into an old, dilapidated, and possibly booby-trapped house with no way of defending himself, no way to launch an attack. How on Earth had he ever thought that this would ever help save his brother?

He stopped and took a breath, cleared his mind. There were two options here. Obviously the Demon was expecting him. So had it taken off, taking Sam with it, to throw him off? Or was it – and Sam – still here, just waiting for him to walk into a trap?

_Breathe_, he thought, _keep going._

The whole place looked pretty simple from where he stood. Okay. So he'd come in through the front door. There were two ways to go: through a doorway straight down a staircase to his left. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. _Straight ahead first_, he decided. It seemed more like that a place underground would be more dangerous.

A good place for a trap.

Which meant Sam was probably down there.

He felt anger well up inside him as he wrestled with indecision. _God damn it!_

_I'm not doing this for me_, he remembered. _I'm doing this for Sam._

He breathed deeply, hesitated, then swallowed his apprehension and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed it! Next chapter...Dean finds Sam - but is there still danger lurking in the shadows? 


	22. Chapter 22

So here is Chapter 22! Thanks for everyone who has replied to the story so far. Unfortunately, I will be gone all of next week on a school trip to Montréal and Québec City, so the next week will be sadly "update-less." Although I usually update every other day, I hope to post Chapter 23 tomorrow, so you'll have something to fret about while I'm gone. HA. Yeah, right. LOL.

Anyway...enough of my rambling...here's Chapter 22!**

* * *

**

**Chapter 22**

Again reminiscent of a cheesy horror movie he might see on TV one night, the atmosphere seemed to get creepier as he descended the stairs. He could still taste blood in his mouth. He thought, _This was a mistake._ Why couldn't he have come up with a better plan? _This was a mistake._

He kept walking, the simple movement of putting one foot in front of the other almost soothing. _This was a mistake. But I have to keep going._

The last stair creaked as he stepped off in onto a hard concrete floor.

_Sammy._

_Maybe this wasn't a mistake._

The room he'd walked into was empty as well, and the air was deathly still, but something told Dean that he's gone the right way. _Which,_ he thought as another wave of apprehension washed over him, _could turn out to be completely the _wrong _way._

There wasn't much to see now, though Dean imagined that at one time the room must have contained furniture, or at least been a storage space, when people lived there. He looked around and felt his heart stop.

There was a door.

His heart started to beat again, rapidly and erratically. _I must have a guardian angel_, he thought. _Sam, too._ Whatever the explanation, he walked towards the door, knowing that Sam was in the room behind it.

He tried to turn the doorknob, and not surprisingly, it was locked. "Sammy?" he called, trying not to raise his voice too loud. He didn't really care, anyway. At this moment, the only thing in the world that mattered was getting to his brother. Even if it meant dying at the hands of the Yellow-Eyed Demon they'd been hunting for so long.

"Sammy. I know you're in there. Say something if you can hear me. Please." He bit his tongue out of fear, nervousness, and most of all, anticipation, and felt the skin crack. "Please."

If he could have stopped his own heartbeat in order to listen for a reply from Sam, he would have. But that sound was the only one he heard, along with his own erratic breathing, as he leaned again the door, praying for a sign.

Another two options. Pick the lock, or break the door down? The former would take more valuable time, but if Sam was unconscious and he was too close when the door fell, Dean might do even more damage than the Demon already had. He tensed as he remembered the reason he and Sam were in this situation. _Where is that bastard, anyway?_ He looked around nervously, but the room was still empty.

Swearing furiously under his breath, he pulled his lock-pick out of his pocket and started to work on the lock. _Focus!_ he told himself. _Pay attention to what you're doing. And don't let your guard down. Dean, Sam's life depends on you._

Years' worth of lectures and endless commands from his father sounded in his head as he struggled to unlock the door, sweat pouring down his face. _Take care of Sammy. Keep him out of trouble. Watch over him. Keep Sammy safe. _

_I am, Dad. _

_I won't let you down. _

Dean nearly bit his tongue off as something clicked and the locked door was suddenly _un_locked.

A thousand exclamations came to mind as he slid his lock-pick back into his pocket. "Sammy," he called again, "I'm right here. Can you hear me?" No reply. Dean shoved the door open.

The motionless body on the floor could not have been his brother's. _Oh, God, please, no._ Sam Winchester looked like he'd just been thrown into the room, his limbs splayed out, streaks of blood all over one side of his face. "Oh, God, Sammy."

He didn't remember rushing forward to his brother's side, just was suddenly aware that he _was_ at Sam's side. "Sammy. Sam. Wake up. Sammy. Can you hear me?" Dean realized he was fighting back tears. "Come on, Sam, give me a sign. Anything. Let me know you're still in there."

Sam made no response and Dean felt the tears start to slip out. He pushed his brother's overgrown hair out of his face and winced at the sight of a large painful-looking gash across his forehead, and the feeling of heat rising from his face. He glanced around quickly, wondering what the hell he could have hit his head on, but he saw nothing. He frowned and turned back to his brother.

Sam's hands were tied behind his back. Dean clenched his teeth. That seemed a bit unnecessary, didn't it? The kid was completely helpless – sick, hurt, and locked up. Why _tie_ him up? Dean felt his hunter's instincts prickle. He was missing something here. He glanced around again before starting to untie Sam's hands. He froze. _Oh, God. _There was another cut, this one across Sam's right palm.

"Oh, I don't think so," a cold, mocking voice said.

Dean looked up and felt his stomach drop. Standing in the doorway, looking amused, was the Demon.

* * *

Hope everyone liked it! Hope to update tomorrow! If not, well...catch you all after my trip:) 


	23. Chapter 23

Another update before I leave, just like I promised...Here is Chapter 23. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

**

**Chapter 23 **

Dean let go of Sam's bound hands and stood up. He reached into his jacket pocket. "You."

"Me," the Demon said lazily, stepping into the room. "Nice to see you again, Dean, how have things been?"

Dean swallowed hard, glaring into the Demon's yellow eyes. "What did you do to Sam?"

"Making accusations already?" the Demon asked. "Why, Dean, don't you think we should get the formalities out of the way first?"

"Go to hell," Dean whispered. In his pocket, he flipped his phone open and found the button he was searching for. Down 3 times. _Come on, Dean. You can do this._ There. Good. Now the OK button.

* * *

Cecilia stopped chewing on her thumbnail for a moment or two as the phone in Ellen's hands started to buzz. _Oh my God._

Jo's face had paled considerably. "He missed. He counted wrong," she said worriedly. "You number was five down in his address book. It was supposed to be my phone to call."

"Forget it, Jo, it doesn't matter," Ellen said sharply. "And I imagine he's fairly preoccupied at the moment. At least he got one of us."

Cecilia watched Ellen with wide eyes. The woman was visibly shaking. Jo noticed it, too. "Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ellen snapped. "Does everyone know what to do?" Everyone nodded. "All right. Then let's do this."

_Dear God_, thought Cecilia, _please, please, let everything be okay. And everyone._

* * *

"I'm so glad you could make it," the Demon sneered, its gaze flicking from Dean to Sam's prone form and back. "It's been a while. We haven't had a chance to catch up." 

"Catch up?" Dean repeated, hearing his voice crack. "All right. Let's do that/ Life was okay. Not great. Not horrible. Sam went back to college, you know." It took every ounce of self-control inside to not pounce on the evil bastard and keep the sarcasm going. "Then, a few months ago, I got a phone call. From a police officer in Palo Alto. That's where Sam went to college," he added as if for the Demon's benefit.

It didn't reply or play along, simply watched Dean with amusement.

Dean quit the bullshit. "You took my brother," he managed to get out. "You sick bastard, you did this – he's _dying_ – "

There was still no reply. Dean felt himself start to shake with suppressed rage. "What do you want from us?" he shouted, completely losing control. "Can't you just let us be? Who was Sam hurting, studying to be a lawyer at Stanford? Why did you have to – " He stopped, not even able to think of words to describe what the Demon had done to Sam.

"Have to what?" the Demon asked, tipping its head in mock curiosity.

Dean gritted his teeth and glared at it. "You kidnapped him. Locked him up." He heard his voice crack. "You're lucky he's not dead, because I swear to God – "

"What? What are you and God gonna do?"

Dean blinked, feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach, as the memory of that fateful night came back to him in a huge, painful rush.

"Haven't we had this discussion before?" the Demon said. Its eyes glinted maliciously. Dean swallowed hard and forced the memories back.

"It's over, Dean," it said, laughing. "No more pointless banter about how you and Sam are going to kill me. No more year-long chases that never amount to anything. You won't have to worry about me ruining your lives, and I won't have to worry about you ruining my plans."

Before Dean could reply, an invisible and intangible force pulled him backwards and slammed him against the wall. He cried out in pain as he hit it hard. The Demon laughed.

"Not so cocky now, are you?" it asked softly. "But then again, you haven't been so cocky lately at all, have you? Oh, sure," it jeered, "you put on a show for your buddies at the Roadhouse, don't you? What the pretty blonde one's name? Jo?"

Dean tried to pull away from the wall, to no avail. "You stay away from her."

The Demon just smiled its cruel, laughing smile.

"But you're really not that brave, are you? It's all just an act." Dean didn't answer. _Don't let it in your head. Don't let it get to you._

"Don't wanna talk about that? All right. New subject."

_Keep it talking. Keep it talking. Don't let it in your head._

"You gave us all quite a shock, Dean," the Demon said. "Me and Sam, we thought you'd given up on looking for us."

"I never did," Dean hissed through gritted teeth, feeling the anger start to rebuild itself inside him.

"You say _I've_ almost killed him, Dean? I don't think that's quite true."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Locking him up and letting him die slowly doesn't count as 'almost killing him?'"

"Well," it said with a smirk, "you should've seen his face when he found out that his big brother wasn't looking for him anymore."

Dean stopped struggling to stare at the Demon. "What did you tell him, you son of a bitch?"

"Nothing," the Demon said nonchalantly, "just the truth. That Big Brother Dean had left Palo Alto after the police stopped looking. That he spent all his time at the Roadhouse."

Dean glanced down at his younger brother. _Oh my God, Sammy. I swear I never stopped looking. I swear._

His head snapped back against the wall, forcing him to look back at the Demon.

"It's completely over," it said in soft, malicious glee. "Now I get to watch both of you die."

* * *

Muahaha...evil laugh. Hope you enjoyed! And...catch you all next week! 

-Caitlyn


	24. Chapter 24

I'm baaaaack!

Hey everyone, back from my trip. And so is _Running Out of Time_. Ironically, this is the shortest chapter of the whole fanfic...sorry! Anyway, here it is! (It is also the most depressing chapter, btw. Seriously.)

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Sam couldn't remember ever being in such pain. Memories of the past few months cam over him. None of it came even close to what he was feeling now.

Voices. He could hear voices. His dulled senses sharpened slightly as he realized that people were talking. Near him. About him? He didn't know. He tried to ignore the aching in his body and listen.

"It's completely over," a voice said.

_That's the Demon_, thought Sam. _Who's he talking to?_

He forced his eyes open. He saw the man with yellow eyes. It was looking straight at something. Sam followed its gaze.

_Oh God. No. No. No. Please, no. Not Dean._

_Dear God, let this be a nightmare._

Sam saw his brother.

How long had he been desperate to see that face? Hear that voice? He'd wanted to be rescued – wanted Dean to come for him –

"Now I get to watch both of you die."

He hadn't wanted _this_.

His vision blurred as he helplessly looked up at his brother, pinned against the wall, glaring right back at the Demon. _He was always so much braver than me._

He was so tired.

He had wanted Dean to come.

But even that had been ruined.

Dean was staring to move up the wall. Sam saw Jessica in his mind. Thought of his mother.

_Oh, please, God, not Dean, too. _

_This was never supposed to happen. Dean, I'm so sorry._

He saw black spots start to dance at the edge of his vision. He closed his eyes. It was all pointless.

* * *

Hope no one's too depessed after reading that. ;) I'll update soon! 


	25. Chapter 25

Haha here is the next chapter. Stupid conclusion to the Demon storyline, I know, and I'm sorry, but I couldn't come up with anything better. I don't spend much time thinking about killing demons, you know. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 25**

The pressure holding Dean against the wall increased tenfold and he fought to suppress a groan of pain. He tried to look down at his brother and felt his heart skip a beat. _Sammy, are you awake?_

"Sam," he started, managing to pull his head from the wall for a moment before it snapped back.

"Sam can't hear you," the Demon spat. "Like I said, Dean, it's over."

Dean's memory of his possessed father torturing him, in that cabin, two years ago, supplied the pain for him, even though it hadn't even started yet. _Come on, guys, hurry up._

As if on cue, the Demon froze, its yellow eyes wide with fury. Dean listened hard, but through the walls, he could hear nothing.

"What did you do?" it choked out. "Who's out there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said, glaring at it.

The Demon reached down for something on the floor. Dean felt apprehension and fear flood through his satisfaction that everything was going according to plan. _Oh, God. What is it reaching for?_

A knife, he saw, and felt his heart skip a beat. _No!_ he thought. He saw the Demon raise it above Sam's body, and just as he was about to scream, "NO!" he felt pain rack his entire body. He cried out, this time not imagining it. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt hot, burning tears well up inside them.

Whether it lasted a moment or an hour, he didn't know, but suddenly the torture stopped and he felt the pressure holding him to the wall simply vanish. His legs crumpled beneath him as he hit the ground.

The Demon dropped the knife, and the weapon lay near Sam's head, who thankfully seemed to be still alive as well. Dean tried to crawl forward, ignoring the torturous pain coursing through every inch of his body. _I need the knife. It can't hurt Sam if it doesn't have the knife._ Not quite true, but now was not the time for thinking of all the ways the Demon could kill Sam in an instant.

The Demon was shaking spastically, screaming, "What did you do?"

Dean kept crawling. _Go, just go…God, please let this work._

Suddenly the Demon stopped and glared at Dean, its eyes a brighter yellow than Dean had ever seen them. "You're going to die for this," it hissed, and Dean was abruptly thrown against the wall as a burst of energy seemed to come out of nowhere. Sam was thrown, too, and Dean cried out in horror as he watched his brother hit the ground hard. He, too, slammed against the ground, this time hearing a crack as something snapped.

_It's working_, he thought with relief through the pain. The man possessed by the Demon had fallen to his knees. "Go to hell, you evil son of a bitch," Dean whispered. He covered his face as the Demon exited the man's body. There was a flash of light, and it was gone.

Dean looked around. There was no sign of the Demon. _It's gone_, he thought. _It's really gone._

He tried to stand up, unsuccessfully and ended up crawling across the floor. "Sammy," he called out. He winced when he saw Sam crumpled in a heap on the floor. The gash on his forehead had reopened, and blood was once again pouring down the side of his face. "Sammy," he called again. Sam didn't respond. "Please, Sammy, let me know you can hear me." But Sam didn't move.

He pulled himself onto his knees and scanned his brother for any extra injuries. "Sam," he murmured, finally finishing untying his hands, which he'd started…how long ago? He didn't know. Time seemed to have lost its meaning.

_Sam has been here for three months._

He brushed Sam's hair out of his closed eyes and gently cradled his head. "Please wake up, Sammy," he whispered. His eyes filled with tears as he felt the heat radiating from his brother's face. Sick. Hurt.

Dying.

"Dean? Dean? Are you in there? Dean? Is everything okay?"

Dean blinked at the sound of voices from outside the room. _Jo. Cecilia. Ellen. Ash._ He'd forgotten that they had been the ones reading the exorcism – the most powerful he could find – outside the room. He didn't answer, though, simply remained still, holding his brother, barely even able to think.

"Dean! Say something if you're all right!"

Dean tried to calm himself. "I'm fine," he said. Too quietly, he knew, but he didn't care.

"I think I heard him," Jo's voice.

"I didn't," said Ash's.

"He's alive," said Cecilia's quiet, slightly ominous one. There was silence from everyone else.

Dean couldn't bring himself to leave Sam's side. "I think the door's open," he called, a little louder this time.

Sam shifted slightly in his sleep, and Dean felt his heart ships a beat. _Come on, Sammy. Wake up. Please wake up._ But nothing else happened.

The door opened and Dean looked up. Ellen and Jo had identical expressions on their faces – mixed ones of horror and shock. Ash looked disgusted.

Cecilia, though, didn't look surprised. She was the first of the four to step into the room, her eyes huge, her lips trembling. "Oh my God," she whispered. She knelt next to Sam. "Oh my God."

Ellen watched them for a moment before taking charge. "Dean. Pull yourself together. Sam needs a hospital. Jo, your cell's on, call 911."

Dean wiped his eyes and tried to stand up before collapsing next to Sam. He heard Cecilia shriek.

"Dean? Dean? Oh my God!" She sounded like she was crying. "Dean. It hurt you, too, didn't it?"

Somewhere, in the background, Jo's voice, on her cell phone, rose higher with distress. Dean opened his eyes. "I'm all right," he said. But he couldn't move. Everything hurt so bad…

He heard a phone snap shut and then Jo rushed into his line of sight. "You're bleeding everywhere," she whispered.

"It's not as bad as last time," he mumbled. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes again was Jo's already blanched face turn to a horrified and scared whiter shade of pale.

* * *

muahaha...another cliffhanger! 

-Caitlyn


	26. Chapter 26

Hey, everyone! Sorry for skipping a day! But here is Chapter 26...the second-to-last chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 26**

Dean heard the sound of the door opening through the fog of sleep and opened his eyes. Ellen look like she'd tried to enter quietly, but a guilty smile came onto her face when she saw Dean looking at her.

"Sorry," she said apologetically.

"It's all right," Dean said, but he couldn't bring himself to smile back.

Ellen sat down in one of the chairs next to the bed and reached for Dean's hand. "He'll be fine, Dean."

He sat up in his own chair, pulled as close as humanly possible to Sam's bedside, and did the twenty-sixth once-over of Sam of the day. The youngest Winchester looked much healthier than he had two weeks ago, the fevered flush gone from his face, the wound on his head starting to heal. His hand was still, bandaged, though.

"He should've woken up by now," Dean said. Somewhere behind his eyes, he felt angry tears starting to burn, but he pushed them back.

"Dean. You know he went through a lot. He was – he – " She hesitated. "He was close to death when we found him, Dean. You can't expect him to be up and out right away."

"It's been two weeks," Dean said, twisting the sheets in his hands nervously. "I'm starting to - "

The door opened and Cecilia walked in. She looked terrible, Dean noticed. The dark spots under her eyes made her look as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Dean thought of the sweet girl he and Sam had met a year ago. The memory felt like it was from someone else's lifetime.

"Did he wake up yet?" she asked quietly, sinking into one of the chairs. Dean shook his head. She looked away.

When Dean had woken up in the hospital, he'd found Jo and Ash in his room waiting for him to wake up. Ellen and Cecilia, they'd told him, stayed with Sam. Even though Dean wasn't a patient any longer, Cecilia still came everyday. He'd told her numerous time to go home, that her friends and family needed her, too, but she was adamant about staying with them until Sam woke up.

"Dean?"

He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "Hmm?"

"I know…I know you want to stay with Sam, but, um, would you mind if I could have a minute or two with him…alone?"

Dean blinked. His first thought was, "No way in hell." But when he looked at Cecilia, the pleading look in her eyes, and remembered how she had risked everything to save, Sam, he nodded. "I'll just wait outside, then," he said. She gave him a grateful, but sad, smile.

* * *

"Hey, Sam," Cecilia said quietly, moving to the other side of the bed to steal Dean's chair, the one closest to Sam's head. "You know, it's been two weeks now." She looked away, as if Sam could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I think Dean's going crazy." 

She licked her lips nervously and felt a tear slide down her cheek. "Actually," she admitted with a tiny laugh, "I think we're all going crazy." She wiped her eyes. "Please wake up, Sam."

Cecilia chewed on her thumbnail. "Sam," she whispered. "I need you to wake up. Please, please, wake up."

_Just say it, Cecilia._

"I'm still in love with you," she burst out, and covered her face with her hands to hide the sobs. "I thought I'd never see you again, when you left last year, Sam, and I used to pray that I would dream about you, because I thought it would be the only way I'd ever see you again. I never thought – I never thought that one day I really _would_ be dreaming about you.

"I let you go, Sam, because you told me it would be the best thing for both of us, and I trusted you. I truly did. But I never got a chance to tell you that I still love you."

She uncovered her face and reached out to gently caress Sam's hair. "You have to wake up," she whispered. "For all of our sakes."

Cecilia stared expectantly at him, desperate for a sign that he had heard what she'd said. But he didn't move.

* * *

Dean was still sore everywhere. 

The damage inflicted by the Demon hadn't been that bad, especially compared to last time, but every quick movement had pain shoot through him everywhere. He felt as if he hadn't slept in days, although he knew eh dozed off sometimes during his vigil by Sam's bedside.

"I'm back," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic, just in case Sam could hear him. "Cecilia kicked me out for a big. I didn't go far," he added quickly. "So, what'd you talk about?" It was a completely unfunny joke, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

"She better have told you to wake your ass up," Dean continued. "Seriously, Sammy. Everyone's falling apart." He hesitated. "I'm falling apart."

He took a deep breath and went on. "Sam, for the last three months I've been losing my mind." Where was this coming from? He hadn't meant to say all this. "I didn't know what had happened to you. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my entire life."

He reached out slowly and wrapped his hand around Sam's limp one. He could feel the bones underneath. When had he gotten so skinny?

He remembered a long time ago, when Sam was maybe five or six years old, and he caught pneumonia one winter. John was by his side day and night, leaving only for emergencies. Dean could still remember watching his dad cradle Sam's chubby little hand like that. He smiled at the memory. John hadn't wanted Dean to get too close to Sam, for whatever reason, but at some point his father Sam's room, and Dean slipped in. He took his brother's hand just as his dad did, rolling it between his two larger ones.

* * *

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Jo was leaving after her daily visit. She hesitated at the door, her dark eyes watching Dean worriedly. "One of us can, like, stay if you want." 

"I'm fine," Dean said tiredly. "Just go home. We'll be all right."

She paused, then slipped out the door, shutting it gently behind her. Dean sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Sam's eyelids started to flutter. Dean pulled his hands away, his heart thudding. Sam opened one eye.

"You're a really horrible liar, you know," he said.

* * *

And there you go! old your breaths for the final chapter, coming soon! 


	27. Chapter 27

Sorry for the long wait! I decided to make a minor change to the end of the story. :) Here it is, folks! The end of the show. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 27**

"I can't remember the last time I was outside," Sam said quietly, a tiny smile on his face. After a moment, though, it faded, and Dean knew that he, in fact, did remember the last time he had been outside.

"Come on," Dean said, anxious to change the subject and bring a smile back to his brother's face.

He watched Sam walk slowly across the parking lot of the hospital, staying close by just in case he stumbled. Sam looked healthier than he had since before he was taken prisoner, but he still looked weak and skinny, and there was still a bandage on his hand. Dean bit the end of his tongue. He hared this. He hated seeing his brother like this, even now. It only brought back horrible memories.

"Did Ellen and Jo head back home?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Ash too."

They reached the Impala and both opened its doors and slid inside. Sam breathed deeply. After a moment, he said, "Never really though I'd be glad to be back inside this thing." He gave a small laugh.

Dean smiled and looked away, waiting for the awkward moment to pass.

Dean started the engine and started to pull out. It was quiet for a few minutes until Sam said softly, "Cecilia didn't go home yet, did she?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

Sam sighed. "I wish she'd never gotten involved in this."

Dean glanced at him. "She saved your life, Sam."

"Dean, when – " He stopped. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just keep thinking of what will happen to her once – "

"Hey," Dean cut in. "Cool it, all right? Let's just concentrate on the present. You're still not one hundred percent okay. Save it," he added, seeing Sam open his mouth to protest. "Just don't worry about it, okay? We're safe for now."

Sam hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

Dean sighed with relief. "All right. Good."

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean glanced apprehensively over at Sam, recognizing his tone of voice. _Uh-oh!_ "What?"

"I just want to, you know, like, thank you," Sam said in a rush, his face turning red. "Most other people – "

"Well, I'm not most other people, am I, Sam?" Dean interrupted. "You aren't thanking me, Sam. You know I don't give up that easily."

Sam glanced away, looking slightly uncomfortable, but Dean saw the sad look on his face. _Oh, come on, Sammy. Did you really believe that thing when it told you I stopped looking for? _

He looked so tired, Dean thought, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. He was sick anymore, and all his injuries except his hand had healed, but the dark spots under his eyes and the exhausted, unhappy look he still had revealed that he hadn't left it all behind. "Sammy, are you having nightmares again?"

His brother seemed reluctant to answer. "Sam."

"No," Sam said quietly. "I haven't been sleeping."

Dean shut his eyes and sighed, trying to hide his frustration. "Sam…"

"It's not something I can help, Dean," Sam muttered. "It'll go away eventually, all right?"

Dean bit his tongue and stared out at the road. "All right," he said, suddenly feeling as tired as Sam looked.

* * *

Cecilia heard a key turn in the lock. After the whole thing with four hunters, she felt herself tense up and prepare for anything. She relaxed a moment when Dean walked in. "Hi," she said. 

Her heart started to race. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Sam?" She stood up with the intention of throwing her arms around him, but stopped.

He froze too, his eyes on her. "Hey, Cecilia," he said, and suddenly he was looking at everything else in the room _but_ her, avoiding her gaze.

Dean looked uncomfortable. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and slipped out of the room without a word.

Sam walked across the room – slowly, she noticed sadly – and took a seat on the bed she'd been sitting on before they came in. "It's been a long time," he said, finally looking her in the eye.

"Only a year," she said, sitting down, too. She didn't know what to say to him. How to say it. When to say it.

"Dean told me," he continued. "Thank you. So much. I – " He stopped, and shook his head. "I'm sorry I'm making this so awkward."

She smiled. "Don't be sorry."

Sam nodded, but he wasn't done. Cecilia felt her heart sink, intuitively knowing she didn't want to hear what was coming next.

"The exorcism worked," he said quietly, "but demons can get out from Hell once they're there. And there's no doubt that this one will get out too." He licked his lips and blinked. _Oh my God, he's trying not to cry._ "You don't know how grateful I am, for you saving my life. I owe you so much. We both do. But – " _There's always a 'but,' isn't there?_ "– but now if the Demon gets out – if it knows you helped us get out – it'll go after you, too."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Now Cecilia found she couldn't look at him.

"There are other demons out there. More than you can imagine. By now, they'll have figured out what happened. Me and Dean – and Ellen, Ash, and Jo – we'll all be on their hit lists. And if they know your name, or what you look like, or anything about you – you will, too."

"Then let me stay with you for a while," Cecilia said. "Teach me what to do. Teach me how to protect myself. I – "

He was already shaking his head. "You can't come with us," he said, and this time a tear slipped out. "That will the most dangerous place to be."

"Then what do you want me to do?" she asked. "Change my name? Get a makeover? Leave my friends and family and move far, far away?"

Sam didn't answer, but she knew anyway.

"I'm so sorry you got a dragged into this," he whispered after a few moments.

Cecilia wiped her eyes. "Could you hear me?" she asked quietly.

He blinked. "When?"

"When…you were…in the hospital."

A light came into his eyes before it was replaced by sadness. "Oh." He looked straight at her. "Yeah."

She stood up to grab the one bag she'd brought when she left to find Sam and Dean, what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Don't forget me, Sam. Don't forget what I said." She paused. "I promise I won't ever forget you."

She reached the door. "Tell Dean I said bye." She didn't think she could handle saying another emotional farewell.

"Promise me you won't do anything to get yourself hurt, Cecilia. Please, promise me."

She looked back at him, tears streaming down. _Oh, God. He's really crying._ "I promise," she whispered, and left.

* * *

"You're an idiot," Dean said. 

Sam looked up. "What?"

"You're an idiot," Dean repeated.

"Why?"

"You didn't need to make her leave right away," Dean said. "You know…" Sam caught on.

"Oh, come on, Dean."

"All right, all right. Sorry." But he couldn't help smirking.

Sam leaned back against the back of his bed. "Tired again?" Dean asked, watching.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"All right. Well, let's his the road tomorrow. I've only paid up to tonight."

"Okay."

Dean didn't bother asking where he wanted to go next. Whether he wanted to go back to school. Or back to hunted. Now wasn't the time.

They'd have plenty of time for making plans later.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Let me know! 'Cause there's a prequel that's all done, and a sequel in the works! Should I continue? Or no? 

Thanks a lot everyone! Hope you liked it!

-Caitlyn


End file.
